Going the other way
by Devonnie
Summary: Harry and Draco are best friends. Ron and Hermione have been together since forever. Petunia and Narcissa are not what they seem. This AU world of Draco and Harry's Hogwarts years leads to an unexpected mystery ending.
1. Chapter 1

The train was slowing down, as it was winding through tunnel-like scenery adorned with mountains on every side. Harry was standing very still, face to face with a superbly dressed blonde boy, who despite being awfully small, somehow seemed to take up half the doorway all by himself.

"You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort Potter, I can help you there"- and he extended his hand to shake Harry's. Very slowly, hesitantly Harry took it.

Draco's face instantly split into a huge grin. He quickly grabbed a chocolate off the floor and motioned Crabbe, Goyle and Harry to follow him out of the compartment.

They then proceeded to parade through the train, making stops at every single cluster of students whom Malfoy knew. That turned out to be a pretty hefty number, for despite being only a first year, Harry's new patron seemed to know just about everything and everyone. Every single Hogwarts student that Harry met that day was already dying from excitement and anticipation of meeting him and shaking his hand or of a possibility of spending a few seconds in his presence. Draco was enjoying himself quite a bit in the midst of it all; having a much better time than even Harry. Draco's face glowed with something between pride and jealousy. It was obvious that he marveled in this excellent "find" of his, named Potter. People were in awe of the Boy Who Lived, and they took and admired Draco by association.

Harry was more than pleased with such an outcome. After all he didn't ask for a lot; he would have been happy with the wizarding community even if they ignored him altogether, as long as they did not outright despise him for who he was. And as it turned out, not only did they not hate him - they all but worshipped him.

When the train finally came to a halt and Harry hustled back to the compartment to get his trunk and apologize to Ron for leaving so abruptly, he found it deserted, only the sweets and the luggage lying on the floor.

Harry could not remember the events of that night too well, for he was overcome with anxiety and excitement; thus the only fact even worth noting was him being sorted into the Slytherin House.

That part was forever etched into his memory, embedded so deep and so vividly as if it happened mere minutes ago. An overcrowded dining hall. An old talking hat. A never-ending chattering noise. Time dragging on and on. And then a distant shout "Harry Potter", and the entire school fell silent.

The older students who have not heard the news on the train, stopped talking and as one turned to face the front. Time slowed even more and then dragged on, as if it stopped altogether, as Harry stood up and carefully made his way up to the hat. For a good ten seconds he just stared at the old brim and the pointy worn top of this magical object. Then he sighed and put it on, not really dreading or hoping for anything.

It seemed like minutes, and then hours, as he sat there - waiting…waiting… when finally the old brim opened and the hat shouted "Slytherin". The hall exploded with shouts, whistles and catcalls, but eventually every other sound was drowned out by the applause.

**Slytherin** The word still echoed in his mind.

Harry remembered Draco looking quite beside himself. His face was overflowing with delight and happiness. He was on his feet, standing on top of the table, cheering louder that anyone. His friends, Crabbe and Goyle, sat on either side of him, looking grim, quite unhappy that their role model was being taken away from them. As soon as he was less than five feet from the table Draco pushed Crabbe unceremoniously out of the way so that Harry could take his spot… Even Crabbe and Goyle, being as thick as they were, knew that their lives were about to take a turn to never again be the same.

The next morning on the way to breakfast Harry tried to remember which turns they took and what stairs they used to get up to the main level, but it was pointless, the castle was simply too big. Consumed in thought, he wasn't paying attention to where his feet were taking him, and less than ten seconds later such carelessness led him to nearly killing a girl with very straight blond hair.

She was bent over a pile of books on the floor and wasn't paying attention also. Harry had an odd feeling that he knew her, but as he turned back to glance at the girls' face - she was gone. She was there and then she wasn't… Such a disappearance was beyond startling, and even in the middle of all this magic, he had a feeling that That was odd. He stopped and stared at the spot where her books were, and felt a chill run down his spine. There was nothing there but emptiness.

Quickly shaking it off, he suddenly remembered that he was on his way to the Great Hall. He turned around and saw Malfoy standing by the entrance, waiting for him. Without a second thought he scurried over to his friend and together they entered the dining room. By the time they reached the long narrow Slytherin table, the girl was gone from his mind. He immediately engaged in the most delightful conversation with the nearby Slytherins, and soon his friend Draco was the only thing around that he cared about.

Not even two weeks after that Harry Potter felt quite at home at Hogwarts; and he felt that he had his noble house of Slytherin to thank for that.

In fact, he felt at home everywhere else in the wizarding world as well; and he didn't only feel - he knew - that he had only Draco Malfoy to thank.

Their friendship became the most important thing for both of the boys in no time at all, and it grew, strengthened and developed along with them, year after year.

No one could have known back then, that it will be five long years before Harry Potter would ever question the relationship with his best friend, Draco Malfoy. The relationship, which took almost no time to build and appeared indestructible.


	2. Chapter 2

Carefree Existence

Harry and Draco were sitting on the porch of Draco's huge house, waiting for their friend to arrive. It was the summer before their sixth year at Hogwarts and as usual, they were spending it at the Malfoy Manor, enjoying themselves in every way they knew how.

The night was warm and dry, and the air was full of the flowery smell, which came from Mrs. Malfoy's favorite rose bushes, planted right underneath the front windows. Draco and Harry have been waiting for over an hour, lounging out on the patio chairs out of boredom, but Caleb Ralis was still nowhere to be seen. Finally, Harry saw three figures apparate outside of the Manor gates and immediately jumped up to open them. As soon as the gate swung open, Caleb's parents were gone with a pop and the sixteen year old ran hurriedly up the lane to the front porch. He reached his friends and quickly slapping them on their backs pushed the front door in, stumbling into the nicely air conditioned room, away from the outside heat.

"So Draco tells me you had a very fun time with Jen the other night?"- was the first thing he said to Harry as soon as the boys walked into the house after him and Harry has shut the door.

The three of them were very tired, but an opening line like that, was a ticket to getting to bed at least three or four hours later... in the best-case.

"Yeah. Sort of.."- Harry said nonchalantly and paused to watch his reaction.

That was bound to wind him up. Playing word games with Caleb was one of Harry and Draco's favorite pastimes. Caleb, not being the brightest of people, was always easy to manipulate and tease. Harry and Draco knew this better than anyone, and took advantage quite often.

"Yeah? Uh no. I don't think so. You are going to tell me everything to the last detail and you are going to tell me now." He was speaking fast, showing great impatience, and raising his voice with every word, forgetting what time it was and that he could easily wake someone up.

Draco was already sniggering like a hyena and Harry figured he better tell the story and make it quick, for going to bed was the only thing he wanted now, at one o'clock in the morning, since Caleb's parents were a bit late to drop him off.

So he did, without leaving out any details- the nighttime stroll through Trafalgar Square, the late evening snack at the charming cafe on the corner of Lavender Street and Wolcott Ave, the moonlit lap around the outskirts of the city on the brand new Nimphus 2007s... and then the legendary bedrooms of Malfoys' London apartment, where Harry and Draco has spent many sleepless nights, hanging out with and without female company.

Caleb seemed to enjoy it. He liked Harry's girlfriend more than Draco's and for some reason always wanted to gossip about stuff like that, just like girls would. His own girl was a Gryffindor named Jessica, the redhead they all met at the last trip to London, where it turned out that she went to Hogwarts too, only two years below them. However due to her outstanding looks age was overlooked not only by Caleb but even Draco. Caleb was a lot more shy than his two best friends, and Harry knew that he has not ventured into "the adventures of adulthood" with any of his prior girlfriends. Which is why he was intent on helping him out with bold ideas, explicit suggestions and advice with this new girl. Draco however didn't show much interest in her and stayed completely out of the "ask Harry" advice sessions Caleb often had. But when Draco was so openly indifferent about someone or something, it usually meant that he was hiding something. That is why Harry had a slight suspicion Malfoy was sweet on her too, but knew he wouldn't do anything out of respect for his friend. Which wasn't an ordinary thing for Draco, and only a select few got the privilege of being respected by him.

A little while later, after grabbing snacks from the kitchens, the boys made their way to the upstairs hot tub area and plunged into the numerous cushions which sat around the veranda, while loudly debating whether to jump into the pool head first off the banisters or just get into the Jacuzzi and quietly relax. The frozen yogurt fruit pies were amazing, and they spent a long time simply sitting there and eating one after another, after another.

Ultimately the night was spent eating and guffawing around on the veranda, since all of them were too lazy to move, and when they finally fell asleep it was five in the morning.

The next day Harry was scheduled to go home for some time to visit his aunt and uncle. It wasn't a big deal, he almost never saw them anymore and once a summer was fine with him. What's more his relatives actually liked him better now, after Draco's father showed up a few years ago, met and gave uncle Vernon a very costly gift, while informing him that Harry was most likely to spend little time at Privet Drive in the future for he was staying with his own son a lot and the two boys were quite inseparable. Ever since then, the Dursleys were extremely civil and pleasant for those few days each summer Harry was over at Privet Drive. He had a sneaking suspicion that Lucius's Ferrari, expensive jewelry and fine clothes had also played a part. The Dursleys were so materialistic, that even Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy themselves did not come close to being that shallow. Harry always smirked and almost laughed out loud when he thought about his aunt and uncle and the way they have been treating him since Draco came into his life. He even enjoyed being in their company from time to time, for almost every time he stayed with them now, they made such fools of themselves hinting at having a chip off the wealth and power his friends from the other world possessed, that it amused him greatly.

At any rate he wasn't too fussed about the visit, he would go shortly after breakfast, and probably be back well before dinner time.

At ten fifteen the next morning Lucius was calling his name from the doorway, the car was sitting right in front of the house and they were running late. Harry was literally hopping around like crazy, trying to simultaneously put on his left sock, find the shoe that matched the one he already had on, grab the little souvenirs for the Dursleys that Draco had scattered all over the house, and stuff a strawberry pastry into his mouth. Needless to say he _Hated_ having to keep Draco's father waiting. Lucius was the only role model and strong male figure that he had ever known, Vernon Dursley withstanding, and if anyone had to choose between the two, only a retard wouldn't have picked Lucius as the better one. Harry only wished that he got to spend more time with the man, but due to the line of work that he did, and many other unknown responsibilities, the Malfoy family and Harry got to see him very little. He paid the bills, he showed up at home just in time for dinner every night, and he sometimes threw big parties at the Mansion, mostly for the Ministry, but other than that he was not around much. However when he was there, he radiated such an air of confidence, excellence and pure perfection that left everyone, superior or inferior, simply in awe. 

And now Harry was slowly but surely pissing the man off, due to being awfully disorganized. Harry was silently cursing himself for such stupidity. At that instant Draco ran into the room, holding all the little gifts and to Harry's surprise – his shoe. Harry grinned at him with relief and laughed out loud. That is why they were friends. Even without having to ask, one always had the other's back. Draco grinned back and gave him a little push toward the door, as if saying "yeah yeah I know, but you need to get moving, catch you later".

All set to go, he was flying down the stairs ten seconds later, smiling apologetically at Mr. Malfoy and waving goodbye to Draco at the same time. A minute later he was in the car, putting on a seat belt and dumping everything that he was holding into the back seat. Lucius quickly got in on the other side and soon they were speeding through the streets of London, in the completely opposite direction of Little Winging, Surrey. However Harry did not notice this and simply sat there drifting off bit by bit.  
That was a big mistake. Little did he know that his peaceful and happy existence was about to take a wide turn and change the only life that he has known for the past five years forever.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 Unrecalled memories

Harry tried to open his eyes but everything was black, and he wasn't sure whether it was because he failed to peel his eyelids apart and his eyes were still closed or the place where he was laying flat on his back was really that dark.

When he had finally managed to open his eyes it turned out that he was nowhere other than his very own bedroom on Number 4 Privet Drive. It was the middle of the night, and the back of his head hurt, throbbing painfully in the spot where he had hit it when he landed on the floor of the bedroom. There were no streetlights burning outside and nothing was lit in the room, yet the intensity of the pitch black darkness it created was eerier and more unnatural than it should be. This forceful darkness enveloped every object around him, swallowing the entire space whole. He had no idea how he got there. He was afraid to move. He simply lay there staring straight above at the black ceiling, unable to sit up. By the looks of it his back was out too.

The last thing he remembered was Lucius driving through the streets of London, speeding noiselessly through the crowds of unsuspecting muggles. Harry tried to think hard, forcing himself to remember more. He saw himself sitting at the passenger's side, looking blankly out of the window as he noticed Lucius out of the corner of his eye, reaching over to the floor and picking something up. Harry jerked his head toward him fast, but just as he got to that part of the memory his scar exploded with pain. He simply could not remember anything else…

At this point the pain he felt all over his body became too overwhelming, his scar, his back and his head teamed up and knocked him out for good. He actually felt himself pass out as the last conscious memory of the night swam through his mind – a distinct cold voice laughing gleefully in his head.

When Harry came to, the next morning, it was already past noon and yet no one had bothered him. Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon or Dudley….none of them had woken him up. _Odd_…he thought, and tried to get up. His back was creaking and cracking, hurting tremendously, but it was working nonetheless. It wasn't broken, and that in itself cheered Harry up quite a bit. Mostly because he spent a full seven minutes trying to remember the right charm that would be able to fix it and he could not get the last four words of the incantation straight, which was frustrating.

He needed Pansy for this. The smartest Slytherin girl he knew, who also happened to have been fancying him for a few years now. Harry did not find her attractive however, and spent most of his time for the past three years dodging her in the common room. That was also the reason why Harry and Draco did not hang around in their dorm too much, and were forced to find different places for entertainment. Such a seemingly inconvenient "motivation" actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise, throwing Draco and Harry into the path of Rosemerta, an overly friendly woman who owned a pub in the village of Hogsmeade. Consequently they chilled out there with her a lot. At 24, she was only about eight years older than Harry and Draco, and therefore the three of them found many things in common. Having inherited the pub from her father when she was only eighteen, she has dedicated the next seven years to taking great care of it. Rosemerta enjoyed flying and loved talking about Quidditch (Harry and Draco were both on the house team). She cooked amazing exotic dishes, gave them excellent girl advice, shared many amusing Hogwarts stories from when she went there, abusing and discussing various teachers in the process, and overall was the best gal friend they could ever wish for. There wasn't a single instance that they spent in the Hogsmeade village that didn't involve her. Harry Potter smiled as he thought about the last time they all sat together outside the pub making little mini fires out of butterbeer (BB) bottle stickers.

Draco thought it would be funny to put gummy bears on top of the little papers and see if they would burn. The thought actually made Harry laugh out loud, as he vividly pictured Draco jumping up and down, determinedly placing the candy bears into the center of several BB stickers stuck together. He knew of course that the idea was ludicrous, but that was part of his charm – Draco's "playing dumb" bits added crude but solid humor to their otherwise potentially boring existences during the school year. (These bits were "life saviors" in class, especially with those professors who still haven't caught on.)

The gummy bears didn't burn of course, but all three of them got plenty of stomach hurting laughs out of it.

Just as Harry was dwelling on that pleasant memory he heard loud noises coming from downstairs. Seems like the Dursleys were there after all.

He slowly made his way to the door and opened it, listening carefully for tidbits of early morning conversation. Such conversations usually went something like this at the Dursley household:

"Pass the bread Dudley," Vernon would say.

"No," would be the simple one sylable answer.

"Manners Dudley!" Vernon's wife would try to stick up for her husband.

"Pass the bread Petunia," while he would completely ignore her just like he did Dudley.

"Here darling. Would you like some fried bacon on that, I made some yesterday, it is truly really good, simply superb quality. Mrs. Parkinson has got it for me at the market on Sunday while it was perfectly fresh, because we were still on holiday, and I asked, I simply had to have had a-……."

"Dad, Dad!!?" Dudley would yell just for the sake of cutting his mother off.

"WHAT Dudley?!" an already irritated Vernon would scream.

And get just the same kind of annoying snap back -"Nothing."

Which would cause his mother to try and reason it all out in a sweet voice- "Dudley! Mind your manners! Darling, cant you see I was just telling daddy-…."

And finally Vernon would blow up -"WOULD the both of you just let me read the bloody PAPER!!! Or I-…."

At that moment Harry normally walked into the kitchen and cut off the argument. He then proceeded to make coffee, which tended to make everybody happy and restored peace around the table for the rest of the dreadful thirty minutes that they had to spend in each others' company before going off for the day.

Mornings were considerably pleasanter at the Malfoy Mansion. _In fact compared to this, Harry would have even described them as blissful. _

_Nobody screamed, nobody yelled, the adults didn't lose their temper, (not that it was even possible in Harry's opinion, to drive Mr. or Mrs. Malfoy to lose their cool…) and the children were not bothered with anything but the ever consuming task of diminishing freshly prepared abundances of French toast, pancakes, scrambled eggs, croissants, bagels, muffins and a million other choices Malfoy's chef has cooked. They normally ate breakfast in the upstairs dining chamber, where the thick, gold embroidered curtains blocked out every single ray of unwanted sunshine from the eyes of its sleepy owners. Mrs. Malfoy was usually already sitting at the lavish wooden table with her back to the windows, reading the morning edition of Witch Weekly and sipping orange juice, by the time the boys woke up and filed into the room through the heavy, ornate double doors. _

_In the mornings she liked to dress in ridiculously expensive silk house robes, with oversize old-fashioned sleeves that opened up to form foot long circles and fell to her knees when standing. Her hair was always up in a tricky looking bun with some loose curls falling to the sides, and some escaping down her back, underneath the robe's silky fabric. She could not have looked more elegant if she were wearing the best cocktail dress in all England._

_It seemed that Narcissa was nearly flawless in all respects, and even if she ever had moments when she wasn't, Harry was not there to witness them and thus not able to tell. _

_With her beautiful long blonde hair Narcissa often reminded Harry of his "ghost" girl from Hogwarts, whom he kept seeing or maybe imagining or maybe …who knows what, year after year after year.. This intriguing connection that he has made between the two women drew him even more toward getting to know his best friend's mother, but somehow it never really worked out that way. Draco came first for him whenever he stayed at the Malfoy mansion; Lucius and Narcissa, being insanely "cool" parents were rarely in their way._

_Anyone who saw Lucius's wife would be left in no doubt of where Draco's good looks came from. And one would certainly have no trouble guessing why Lucius would want to marry this woman. She complimented his blue blood quirks and personality traits perfectly. _

_On top of it all she was also quite quick witted, with a sense of healthy cynicism that came hand in hand with swift and constant sarcasm. And even though she might not have been the smartest woman in Britain, she was clever enough to have made a pretty good life for herself considering where she came from. _

_Narcissa had an extremely privileged life, which at first glance seemed almost like a fairy tale._

_She had a son whom she loved dearly, the son who was her pride and joy. She had a handsome husband who really loved her, a beautiful luxurious mansion in the heart of England and more money than she could ever spend. She had a high class circle of friends with whom to gossip on lonely winter nights, have cocktails in the middle of empty spring afternoons, and shop on long dull summer Sundays. She had a mother in law that adored her and a classic beauty that never failed to shine. _

_ Her little boy turned out to be everything she ever wanted. Bright, confident, independent, funny and socially skilled. The flaw of overly exaggerated arrogance which he got from his father, bothered her only a little, for she understood that a handsome, wealthy and popular young boy would be hard pressed to stay humble. No matter how she tried to weed this out of him, it would not go away and with time she decided to give up. She would have liked for him to be kind, but she saw that it was not possible as long as Lucius was his role model. Draco loved his mother and respected her more than anyone else in the world, but his father…- his father he worshipped. And she could not compete with that. All she could do was settle for him being considerate to people he was close to. He was a sweet boy underneath it all, just like her… She knew very well that she did not exactly come off as the friendliest woman in town. And she didn't feel the need to. After all the Malfoy family had an image to uphold- a cool, untouchable, mysterious… dark… image. So it was all for the better. She was content. _

_ But she wasn't happy..._

!BAAAM!

Harry snapped out of his reverie just in time to hear a door slam and aunt Petunia shriek like a badly wounded banshee. Actually fearing for his closest relative, he jumped at the sound and without a second thought he set off down the stairs at a run, while limping only slightly.


	4. Chapter 4

When he walked into the kitchen he saw Petunia sitting in a heap on the floor, her bony little body bent awkwardly in directions in which it shouldn't be able to bend. There was an overturned bar stool laying two feet away from her and a pile of broken glass splattered around the counter and the ground directly underneath it. Harry cringed when he saw how much pain his aunt was in, but being physically hurt himself and therefore unable to help her up, he turned around looking for his uncle or cousin. He found the kitchen completely deserted however, and he couldn't hear their voices anywhere in the house.

Did no one else hear Petunia scream?… He looked at the clock on the wall – it was too early for them to have left, and Harry personally heard them arguing no more than ten minutes ago.

However that may be, his aunt was definitely not having a good morning. She was hurt, she had tears in her eyes, and if she didn't already look this distressed and rigid most of the time, Harry would have thought she looked depressed. She wasn't looking at him, but staring at the window with her face all screwed up on the verge of crying. It was obvious that she was using the last of her self-control, trying not to break down in front of her estranged nephew.

-"Aunt Petunia…? What happened here? And where is Dudley… uncle Vernon…what, uh… how did you, uh…" Harry managed to stammer, his voice hoarse and quiet.

Petunia, at hearing this, immediately changed her face expression to portray anger and glared at him from her spot on the floor, as if considering whether she wanted to sink to the indignity of actually answering. She paused for a long moment while staring him in the eyes. He could tell that what she was about to say was painful for her and his face expression showed it. Petunia instantly knew that he knew. She blinked and looked at the floor, then nodded her head and emitted a slow hiss-like sigh before she spoke:

-"**He** left. This morning. He has been planning to for quite some time… He took Dudley with him. I couldn't stop them." At this point she actually began to cry, and Harry felt the urge to get down on the floor and hug her, but restrained himself.

"I'm sorry Harry. For everything." She seemed disturbingly sincere as she spoke those words and looked up at him with heartbreakingly tearstained, brilliantly green eyes, and for the first time ever Harry Potter saw something in Petunia Evans Dursley that he had spent his whole life waiting to see – a little bit of Lily. He couldn't quite explain right then why he saw his mother through her sister's eyes and felt his mother through Petunia's desperation, but in that moment he really didn't need an explanation. His own eyes filled with tears and he slowly sank to the floor and wept alongside the woman who has tried her best to make his life miserable for all those years.

In that instant this heartbroken, middle-aged woman couldn't express, nor did she want to admit that she was grateful for this kind of unsolicited support. Harry squeezed her hand and sobbed harder at the same time as she had finally found the strength to stop.

She looked into the eyes of the boy sitting loyally beside her and a tiny involuntary smile crossed her lips.

For the first time in her life, Petunia Evans really missed her sister.

At the same time in the house of Malfoys, Draco was having a psychotic fit. He had found something very disturbing in his father's study, which Lucius forgot to lock, and now waited to confront his father about it. He didn't care that it would most probably get him in trouble and invoke his father's wrath, considering his snooping around in places where he shouldn't have been at all.

Nobody was allowed to set foot in Lucius's private office, no servant, house elf, guest or house member, and only Narcissa had the other key. Which always used to confuse Draco when he was little, because she wasn't allowed in there either, so logically it did not make any sense for his father to have given her a key. At any rate, as far as he was concerned, both of the parents were at fault, and in that moment their son didn't care why, what, how and when went on in that study when he was little, he just needed some answers about _that … well, thing…_ that he _just _found and was still hoping that somehow, someway it would turn out to be some kind of mistake.

Thus, the youngest Malfoy was on a mission. He was rampaging through the house, looking for the two people who brought him into this world and were closest and dearest to his heart. In that moment though – he hated them.

He had so far screamed at every single servant that they had, smacked every house elf that had the misfortune to get in his way in between his room and the downstairs study and he wasn't done yet.

As it turned out Lucius had already left or maybe he never came home the night before, either way Draco would never know, but he **had to** talk to _someone_. So now he was walking through the house, seeking out his mother and even though the thought of fighting with her added a cold pang to every beat of his heart, he could not contain his rage any longer.

-"MOM! Mother! Where are you? Mother!" Draco's voice sounded miserable and it was obvious that he was about to lose it. He kept yelling and yelling, ignoring all the scared looks that he got from their numerous maids. The entire household was beginning to think that the youngest master Malfoy has gone insane. Everyone, but a young Spanish girl, their laundry maid, who came to work for them about a year ago. She stood quietly in the shadows of the hallway through which Draco was advancing while screaming his lungs out, not uttering a word. She knew perfectly well where Narcissa was at the time.

Somewhere on the other side of the Mansion, in the depths of the spacious maze of guest-wing rooms, Narcissa heard her son yelling for her.

She shot up immediately, having been laying down in bed, and quickly looked around checking that all the doors were closed. Standing up and quickly throwing a robe around herself, she ran as quietly as she could to the farthest entrance to this bedroom on the left, leaned in close to the keyhole and listened with her breath held. Draco's voice was trailing off, in what seemed to be the direction of the kitchens, which means he must have passed the rooms she was in just a second ago. And she was safe.

A vast sigh of relief escaped her lips as she clumsily turned around and stared at the massive four-poster bed. The gigantic room was very quiet, all three of the entrance doors were locked, all blinds were shut and heavy floor length curtains drawn. It was completely dark, with the exception of a few tiny rays of sun making their way in through the sliver of space between the curtains. Only slow and rhythmic breathing was breaking the silence.

Narcissa walked back toward the bed, stopping a foot or two away to steal a long and longing glance at the man who was asleep in it.

With a sad smile on her face and a heart full of guilt and regret, she gently put her palm on his cheek and began to wake him up.

A half an hour later, Draco made his way back to his bedroom. He has given up. For now.

He was extremely angry, hurt, frustrated and confused. He always knew his family was dark and he always assumed that they probably had something to do with Voldemort when he was at the height of his power, but he never even attempted to speculate on the subject any farther.

In truth – he didn't care. He would have been glad to know that his father was the right hand of Voldemort, just like everyone that he knew has always believed, but never dared to openly voice. Hell, he would have been genuinely proud and happy, if his father really was the most powerful man's in the world, second in command. Draco would have shown his support and lent a helping hand in any business or sensitive matter that needed solving if it meant helping out his family.

BUT his father never told him. His father had always denied and refuted every question and every rumor concerning the Malfoy family's dark history_. Did he really think so little of me? -_ thought Draco. _Did he not dare trust me with our secret? I am as much a Malfoy as he ever was, and no one in the world is as loyal to his heritage as I am. I am competent and I am smart. I have proven myself many times over with my excellent grades, and remarkable skills that produced with surprising ease the hardest spells and trickiest potions. I have nothing but the highest regard of all the teachers who had the privilege to teach me at that god forsaken school, and my irresistible charm is so well developed that it could make the Queen herself swoon and forget where she was. Not to mention the many, many self-made useful connections that I have among those of the wizarding folk who have for many decades now steered well clear of my father. I am an excellent actor!_

He snorted and let out a short laugh.

His eyes traveled to the old-fashioned, intricately hand crafted, two hundred year old mirror that took up three thirds of his enormous wall, and smirked vainly at his reflection.

It was true. Draco was a marvel, there was no one like him. He knew this perfectly well and consequently came off as rather full of himself when he wasn't consciously trying to check it. That didn't happen often however, for as he already said – he was an excellent actor and did everything in his power to be well-liked and accepted. He only showed his true colors to his one and only best mate, of whom he used to be jealous. But he knew that deep down, Harry was quite a bit different from him, and in fact was quite a self-righteous wuss of a boy. He knew this, because he was great at reading people, sometimes too great, so ultimately even Harry didn't know _that_ about himself.

Harry has met him far too early in life and a lot of the "Malfoy"- like temperament and character has rubbed off on the impressionable muggle-raised youngster. Lucius realized this and so did his son, but Harry never bothered. He liked himself, he liked the Malfoys, and he loved his best friend dearly, so he would never even want to imagine being any different or leading a different kind of life. Sure, he was kinder and a little more honest than his friend, but deep inside he was striving to be just like Draco. Calm, cool and impenetrable.

Ironically in that moment Draco was nothing of the sort. Not calm, or cool or unruffled.

Yes, the youngest Malfoy was extremely mad, and he was not going to let his father off the hook this time. He would corner him the second he stepped into the door and find out the truth. There. The resolution made him visibly relax a bit. He immediately felt better…

But something else was bothering Draco - Voldemort was supposed to have died sixteen years ago, in the presence of no other but his own best friend, Harry Potter.

Harry was still sitting on his kitchen floor three hours later, when it hit him that it was about time to go back. He was supposed to send Lucius an owl when he was ready to be picked up, and the owl would take at least an hour to reach him.

He was still extremely confused about what has actually happened yesterday, but his aunt has assured him that Mr. Malfoy has dropped him off shortly after twelve, and around six he has expressed the sudden desire to lie down, due to an intense feeling of fatigue. So he immediately went up to his room and stayed there for the rest of the day.

It sounded like Petunia wasn't lying, and Harry really did feel extremely ill when he woke up, so it wasn't so far fetched that he did get slightly sick the night before…

But then why did his brain refuse to believe this and kept hurting like crazy every time he tried to remember anything that was close to the time of his blackout..?


	5. Chapter 5

The girl named Hermione Granger was never the popular one at school. She studied hard and learned a lot, trying her best to prove to the Wizarding world that she deserved to be there. In fact she had outperformed every single student in the entire Hogwarts school in every subject above and beyond, for the past five years now. Every student and every subject but _one_. That pesky Harry Potter was better than her at Defense Against the Dark Arts. And every year she swore to herself that she would beat him, and she failed every time. Not by much of course, for not even the famous, legendary "boy who didn't die" could truly outdo her, unless he wanted to spend all his time cooped up with a textbook in the library, and everyone knew very well that that was far from what he and his cronies liked to do. Thinking about him annoyed Hermione greatly, but not thinking about him was impossible, since his fame, his ego and his friends were all over the place, all the time. They were the popular ones. They were known throughout the whole school as the Slytherin Sleek League. Well, not _really, - _she came up with that name all by herself and told no one but her boyfriend about it. Mostly because she _had no one_ else to tell such things to… to tell _any_ things to…

Yes, the sad reality was, that if it weren't for her boyfriend, Hermione Granger would have no one at all… But she rarely let that bother her. This brown haired Ravenclaw know-it-all, didn't care much for friends, for acceptance, for social attention. She kept telling herself every day that if she really wanted to she could have friends. If she really tried she would have plenty of people to hang out with. Although in a way she knew that wasn't true.

Hermione was pretty. Her slender, well-defined waist and her big bright brown eyes, being her most coveted features. Her brown hair was long and wavy, and if she actually cared enough to take care of it, it would have been very beautiful. In fact she had all the potential of being stunning - if she only had enough money to dress right, apply expensive make up and take good care of her skin.

But people (boys most of all) didn't see her that way, for her reputation was established and solidified long ago as the bona-fied book-worm.

She knew that people liked her well enough, they even looked up to her and often asked for help with schoolwork and class assignments.

Academically – she ruled Hogwarts.

In fact whenever a group project rolled around or a particularly hard exam was about to be given she tended to attract quite a big crowd around herself. Students fought for spots around her in the classroom, so that they could easily look over and copy off her paper, and they strove to offer her small favors, vying to be on the "class brain's" good side so she would let them be in her group.

But every time, like clockwork, as soon as exam time was over and all the projects were done, she was immediately abandoned and forgotten. Some of the two-faced traitors didn't even say hello to her in the halls, unless they needed something from her.

But she had Ron. Her wonderful, loyal, and good-looking boyfriend. He was a Gryffindor, and she met him at a Diagon Alley ice cream parlor three summers ago. He worked there part-time during the holidays in order to make some extra cash and she frequented the place often. She heard a lot about the boy already, thanks to his twin brothers, the "class-clown award" winners and Hogwarts Student Body Favorites in general. So she was eager to get to know him more.

Ron was a talented Quidditch player, already playing on a city team, and well on his way to national recognition. He was a more or less social young man, who had noticed something in the sweet and quiet witch right off the bat, and resolved to ask her out.

It took him a couple of months, and when he finally did pluck up enough courage, they were already well into their third year of school. Once he did, the two didn't waste any time in becoming a very strong and solid couple. They have been inseparable ever since. He didn't seem to care about her lack of a social circle, and with time even forgot all about his own friends to be with her. He hung out with them very rarely during the course of the next several years, and preferred his brothers' and his girlfriends' company to anyone else's.

Many girls would have given anything to be noticed by him, and constantly wondered out loud at what he saw in the unkempt, inexpertly dressed muggle-born geek. Their unkind remarks have always found their way back to her, naturally, but far from being upset over them, she gloated. Every single person in this world is only human after all – and if one doesn't have something that someone else really wants, then he or she doesn't have anything worth living for. And Hermione Granger had that something. She had two such things actually – perfect grades and Ronald Weasley. And she never doubted for a second that she deserved both of those things. Quite surprisingly, given all of her imperfections, Hermione Granger was not self-conscious and self-hating like every other girl her age.

Hermione and Ron were sitting at her parents' house, eating breakfast, when a letter arrived. The snow-white owl landed noiselessly in the middle of the table and they both reached forward, not knowing which one of them the note was addressed to. 

Hermione smiled apologetically and jerked her hand back, allowing the redheaded boy to pick the owl up first. Her boyfriend found her actions cute, so he laughed out loud, blew her a kiss, and opened the letter.

It was from Ron's brother, Charlie. He was letting the two of them know that Fred and George were opening a store at Diagon Alley, and inviting them to the Grand Opening next week. He also included a story cut out from Daily Prophet, which featured Harry Potter and that blonde haired git / best mate of his, partying in some Muggle bar in London. They did not look sober in the picture, and Ron was sure they would be in trouble for this if it happened during the school year, considering they were both several months underage.

He chuckled quietly before passing the story to Hermione and pouring himself more orange juice. He remembered very well that fateful summer when he first met Potter.

He was about to start Hogwarts and for the first time ever went into Diagon Alley with his mother to buy school supplies. He was super thrilled and could barely contain his excitement, literally jumping up and down and constantly tugging at the sleeves of his disheveled mother. While he was doing exactly that in front a broomstick store, he noticed a black haired boy standing nearby, looking at him with slight curiosity and concern. He had, what seemed to be a giant, with him. A giant, who looked nothing like him and thus could not have been his father. The presence of such a huge man was what got Ron's attention, so he stared back at the pair, with his mouth hanging open. He always had issues with simple propriety, and his mother noticing this, turned bright red and attempted to fix the situation.

"Hello! I'm Molly Weasley, I am SO sorry for my son's behavior, you would think that he had never been around people before!"- She said nervously and let out a giggle.

When neither the giant, nor the black haired boy answered, she decided to break the ice with a joke and went on-

"He has. In case you were wondering. He's been out in public plenty of times…" She only realized how lame that sounded after it came out of her mouth. Having heard herself say this, Molly Weasley's spirits visibly sank and with an embarrassed expression on her face, she quickly added-

"That was a joke. Sorry… again." Then she turned to her youngest son and loudly whispered-"Ronald that was rude! I can't believe you embarrassed me like this."

She glanced again at the odd pair still standing in front of them and after looking the young boy over very carefully, her mouth involuntarily slipped into a shape of an O, and she froze completely. There on his forehead, underneath a thick batch of unruly black hair, was a scar. And there was only one boy in the entire wizarding world, who was known to have a scar like that.

"Harry Potter?! Are you... Are you really Harry Potter?" She finally found herself saying, also quite involuntarily.

Finally the small boy seemed to have found his voice. He smiled, turned just as red in the face as Molly, and replied-

"Yeah. I am. Harry Potter, I mean. Ahem… It's nice to meet you!" And at this he extended his hand, while looking at Ron for some reason and not Molly.

"And I'm Ron." Ron decided to chime in. He was staring harder than ever and his mouth was now hanging all the way down to his knees, if that was possible. The giant was momentarily forgotten and both of the Weasleys began to enthusiastically bombard him with questions. It turned out he was staying at an Inn at the Leaky Cauldron, and was brand new to "the whole magic thing," as he himself had put it. At hearing that, they immediately invited Harry to spend the night at their home instead, and offered to take him to the train station the next day.

The two boys, who were the exact same age, really liked each other and spend the entire night playing chess and talking, talking, talking. The whole family was ecstatic to have him there. They were a very friendly bunch: all red haired, all goofy in their own way. They were the first family that Harry Potter has encountered in the magic world and they were very eager to do everything in their power to make the transition easier for him.

In fact, they had such a good time, that Ron truly thought that the two of them would grow to become really good friends once they got to Hogwarts. But as soon as they got on the train the next day and settled comfortably into a compartment, everything went wrong.

Ron and Harry were in the middle of a conversation, when the door to the compartment slid open and Draco Malfoy came in. 

Their families were never friends, as it was well known that the Malfoys looked down on anyone who wasn't wealthy. Without fail, the Malfoy boy made a disgusted face in Ron's direction and without as much as acknowledging his presence, turned directly towards Harry and spoke in his usual self-confident tone-

"So it's true. You really are on this train. My name is Draco Malfoy. I have been dying to meet you."

He threw another dirty look at Ron. As if challenging him to a game, a game that he apparently was not planning to lose. His lips melted into a pronounced smirk, his back straightened and his entire demeanor seemed to scream "watch me."

"What are you doing in here with the Weasel-bag Potter? Trust me, you don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. And I can help you there."

An astounded Ron was watching the scene unfold in front of him, as if it was playing in slow motion. He was about to lose his very first school friend. Draco's mouth was moving so slowly that Ron could see every single mili-drop of spit escape his lips and every single muscle twitch in his lower jaw. _He still had time, he could still stop him!,_ and yet he just sat there, as if rooted to the spot. That boy intimidated the senses out of him. There was no way he was winning anything if Malfoy was his opponent.

And sure enough – he lost.

Ever since that moment, Ronald Arthur Weasley was resolved to make something of himself. To make a name and a fortune, so that he would never again have to endure hateful smirks from arrogant assholes that resented his family's poverty.

He decided that his best shot at fame was Quidditch, so from that moment on, he spent ALL of his free time learning, practicing and training hard so he could first make the school team, and then the city team, and then maybe, just maybe, he would become good enough to eventually play for England.

So in fact, he had nothing to be bitter about. He should thank them really.

Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were solely responsible for Ronald Weasley's vast athletic talent and highly promising career. 


	6. Chapter 6

Sisters

Narcissa Malfoy's sharp blue eyes stood out on her soft round face and captivated the onlooker at once. Right now they were boring into the head of an elderly sales lady, who was taking her sweet time to ring somebody up.

Mrs. Malfoy was standing in line at the Louis Vuitton store in Paris, stomping her little foot impatiently. She had the strongest urge to pull out her wand and do something mean to the slow ass muggle. She restrained herself however, grudgingly pulled her hand away from the purse where her wand was peacefully laying, and continued to stand in line, while rapidly losing patience. She had just found herself the most adorable pink baguette, which matched her new Chanel dress perfectly. She would have liked nothing more than to quickly pay for it and be on her way.

The reason for her hurry was leisurely strolling through the back of the store, and to Narcissa's great delight, hasn't noticed her yet. She gave the sales lady and her wand another frustrated thought and sighed. "_Hurry damn it," she thought to herself. "I'm running out of time. She will see me for sure if I linger in this store for more than two more minutes."_

As soon as she finished saying the word _minutes_ in her mind, she heard the familiar voice shriek excitedly across the entire store-

"Cissy!!!"  
_  
Too late._ That voice has always made her cringe. She felt her entire body shudder and then turn stiff.She shot, the now available sales lady, another hateful look and putting a pleasant smile on her cold face, gracefully turned around to face her sister.

"Bella! … My darling. It's been TOO long!"

* * *

Petunia Dursley was spending the morning in her kitchen, at Number 4 Privet Drive. She was standing in front of the sink, wiping the same plate over and over again, while staring absentmindedly out of the window.

_In all of her forty something years, she never even dreamed she would be here. In such a life shattering, mind numbing situation. In the duration of her simple, slow-paced, and overly sheltered life, she had never even known anyone who has gotten divorced, let alone thought that divorce could possibly be in her own future. Subconsciously she should have known that it was coming. They have been unhappy for a while. _

_ It all started a little over five years ago, when her nephew went away to school. That same year Dudley was accepted into Smeltings, a great boarding school located on the other side of the country. So both boys went away at the same time, and left the two of them alone in the old house. Something that neither Vernon, nor Petunia have experienced since the very first months of their married life, before Dudley was born. In retrospect, she should have been preparing for that moment long before it actually happened, having heard a lot about the Empty Nest Syndrome. But she chose to disregard such rubbish, for she was never the one to believe in popular psychology, or take advice from insolent looking talk-show hosts. Perhaps if she did, it would have saved her marriage. For she still loved her husband dearly, no matter how badly he has treated her in the recent past._

_ Oh well. Now she will never know. _

_ She has resolved, two days ago, to forget about her husband as soon as humanly possible and try to build a new life from scratch. A better life. One that would not resemble her old one even for a second. She didn't care what this new life was going to look like, as long as it never again reminded her of who she used to be._  
_  
Petunia knew what such a resolution meant. She had to change everything. She knew perfectly well what she had to do._

She sighed and put the plate down. She has made her decision and there was no turning back. With a stone cold expression on her bony face she marched right up to the small, unused guest bedroom and pushed aside an old night-stand, behind which there was a dusty stretch of wooden floor boards that have not been touched in years. Nobody ever used this room or this nightstand and thus she has never bothered to clean this area up. The dust could literally be measured in inches, and anyone else probably would have choked when it all flew up. But Petunia couldn't care less.

She knelt down and quickly counted the floorboards - four from the wall and one over to the right. Her now expressionless face stared at it for less than a moment before her bony fingers sprung to action, and with a well-practiced motion pried a loose board from the floor. Sticking her entire hand inside the deep hole, she felt around for something that she had left there nearly two decades ago. Back then, she swore that she would rather die than ever use this thing again.

Pulling an elongated box out, she blew the dust off of it and ran a trembling hand across the lid. Below the thick layer of moldy looking dirt, one could just make out an inscription written in intricate, loopy letters - Petunia Evans.

It opened, and a tear escaped Petunia's dry, dust infested eye.

There, inside this delicately crafted wooden jewelry box, laid her wand.

* * *

Narcissa and Bellatrix Black sat in one of the smallest rooms at the Malfoy Mansion, sipping plain black tea without any snacks. Both of the women knew better than to eat pastries at every single tea-time of the day.

They were struggling to make small talk and therefore waited more than impatiently for Lucius to get home.

You could actually tell quite easily that the two were related, even though at the first glance, they looked nothing alike. Narcissa was taller and almost sickeningly slender, while Bella was shorter with very distinct womanly curves. Unlike her younger sister she had jet-black hair that was currently cut at her shoulders and a heavy-set square jaw, which jutted out threateningly whenever she tried to smile.

But despite such striking dissimilarities, they were both very beautiful and uniformly charming, having inherited both of these qualities from their late mother.

All of the Black sisters seemed to squint, laugh and screw up their faces in exactly the same way whenever they were happy, neutral or dissatisfied. These two had an identical stubborn personality, a matching sarcasm-ridden sense of humor, and an overly developed cynical outlook on life. And if one were to spend a mere hour in their company, he would begin to see just why they couldn't stand each other for long periods of time. The reason was very simple. When any two peoples' personalities are practically the same, they naturally tend to clash and drive each other crazy.

After all they wouldn't say that "opposites attract" without having a good cause for it. And if opposites attract, then logically "similars repel."

Unfortunately it has always been this way for the Black girls. When they were younger Narcissa was their parents' favorite – she was always being fussed over, worried about and spoiled rotten in the process. Naturally this made everyone else in the household insanely, though quite reasonably, jealous, Bellatrix not excluded.

And it didn't change much after they entered Hogwarts. Even though they both belonged to the same house, their sets of friends could not have been more different. Bellatrix began spending a lot of time with a sketchy fellow named Snape, passing her days in labs mulling over controversial potions, and very soon afterwards dove head first into the Dark Art itself. Narcissa took the opposite route, she hung around with a Slytherin named Peta, obsessed about her grades and spent the days out in the grounds, sun bathing by the lake. Bella had resented her baby sister for not having an open mind about the Dark Arts, and Cissy in turn had condemned the older one for muddying up their family's reputation by joining in with the above said crowd.

Just like every other Slytherin, the sisters were quite cunning, selfish and ever ready to stab someone in the back. Unfortunately for each of them, that someone turned out to be the other sibling. By the time that Bella entered seventh year, they were barely speaking to each other, outside of the polite pleasantries that they exchanged at home in front of their parents. Narcissa was more than relieved when Bella had finally graduated, letting her live out her last two years of school in peace. Her constant bickering and nagging about the cool new gang that called itself the "Death Eaters" has annoyed the crap out of Ciss, who had no intention of ever being a part of it. When Bella left, Narcissa honestly thought that it would be the end of it.

They both went on to live their lives without ever dreaming of a sisterly "reunion."

However with time, Bellatrix decided to forgive her little sister for not following immediately in her footsteps. And was now eager to restore the family connection.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 Money matters

Harry Potter has been sleeping a lot lately. He barely even came out of his room at the Malfoy Manor, except to eat and spend an occasional moment with Draco. He felt as if he was chronically tired. His stomach constantly rumbled, his back hurt whenever he wasn't laying down and his eyelids refused to stay open even when he was. Whenever he sat down, even for a second, his body immediately went into shutdown mode and sleep overwhelmed him.

He thought that he was coming down with something, something that he perhaps had caught during the trip to his aunt's. Consequently he spent the entire week in bed, without giving the mysterious illness much thought. Draco was slightly worried about his friends' recently acquired bed-ridden state, but had a lot on his own plate lately to pay too much attention.

He has seen Harry twice since he returned, and he hasn't seen his father at all.

Lucius had all but disappeared, popping in occasionally to check on his wife, but somehow always managing to avoid Draco. After thinking about it some more, Draco decided not to talk to his mother after all, but wait until he could see both of his parents at the same time.  
With everything that was going on in his life, Draco has completely forgotten about his so called girlfriend and was almost sure that he no longer needed to worry about it. She was bright and should have gotten the point by now – he wasn't going to see her again. He considered perhaps sending her an owl to make sure that she knew, but in the end decided not to bother. He was a Malfoy after all and she knew that when she made the decision to get involved with him. It was her own fault.  
All in all it was a very slow and quiet week at the Malfoy Manor.

* * *

"Sweetheart? In here. We have a guest." Lucius Malfoy had just apparated home, and was surprised to find out that his wife was not alone. He peeked around the corner of the hallway and got an even bigger surprise. With an eyebrow raised in a peculiar fashion, he stopped dead in the doorway and carefully remarked:

"Bellatrix. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"There is my favorite brother-in-law, I'm thrilled to see you!" she exclaimed and jumped up to give him a hug as soon as he took a step across the threshold.

"I was under the impression that I was your _only_ brother-in-law." He replied coolly, not returning her forced attempt at a smile.

"Well, you know what I mean." She answered simply and sat back down, without taking her eyes off of his face. It was an unspoken understanding that the Black family no longer talked about their other sister, who has married not just a muggle born, but a full out muggle.

He smirked and took several more steps into the room, ending up in front the fireplace. Putting an elbow on top of the mantel he looked down into the fire.

"What are you doing here Bella? And don't beat around the bush. I would rather we get to the point, I was hoping to have an early night."

His wife's sister's face grew dark and lost all of its fake happiness as she retorted-"Ill have you know that I just happened to run into Cissy completely by accident while doing a little bit of shopping this morning in Paris."

"Shopping?" He barked out. "Shopping? Where the hell do you get off lying to me, Bella! You forget yourself; you forget where you are and who I am. _I am_ Lucius Malfoy! You are in the Malfoy Manor!" He was nearly yelling now, spit flying from his thin lips at the end of every word. "Do not kid yourself, my dear. You didn't really think that your husband's financial troubles would remain a secret for long? Especially a secret from _me_? _**Please**_."

Bella's eyes seemed to have turned to ice and her expression, although no longer jubilant, did not show any sign of apprehension.

But inside, she was panicking.

She was determined not to let her appearance betray her, and show just how much he intimidated her.

"You want money. You should just say so. You know I appreciate honesty." He paused for a second, then went on,-"In fact that is probably why you were lurking around in the most expensive shopping district in Europe that, as you know, my wife frequents. You were hoping to run into her "by accident," get her to have tea with you and consequently run into me and feed me some cock-and-bull pitiful story that was meant to get us to feel bad for you and shell out."

Bellatrix's face was drained of all color by now and it didn't seem very likely that she would be able to speak, so her brother in law went on-

"How much?" He said. After getting no reply he repeated- "How much, Bella? I warn you right now that I will not give you more than five thousand, so you should not even bother asking for more than that." At this he took out his wand and conjured up a check and a pen. He then proceeded to sign it and hand it to his silent sister in law.

"There, this is the last time. Don't bother pretending that you plan on paying me back" Lucius thrust the expensive slip of paper at her.

"And I suggest you get a job."

With that he exited the room, leaving the two women alone.

* * *

Several hours later, when it was well after midnight, Narcissa made her way up to the master bedroom. She had finally managed to kick Bellatrix out without any hard feelings. On her part, anyway. She was more than sure that after such an embarrassing scene with her husband, her dear sister would not be coming back for a visit anytime soon. She took the money of course, for that was what she came for, (she confessed right after Lucius had left the room) but she did not leave with an easy heart. She resented Narcissa and her brother in law for everything that they had, and she could never even dream of having. She hated playing the part of the unfortunate relative and her pride suffered an enormous blow anytime she had to ask for money. Which wasn't often, but has happened once or twice before.

Her husband, Rodolphus Lestrange used to have it all. When she met him, back at school, his family was relatively wealthy. And it was all entailed to him when she decided to accept his proposal. However, not long after tying the knot, they started having problems, mostly due to his love for gambling and a tendency to drink a lot and often. He started getting into deals out of which he knew he could not get out. Bluffing only worked for so long, since his business partners began to catch on fairly fast. Soon he found himself so deep in debt that nothing could really save him.

So his fortune went down the drain, when one fine day he was forced to pay it all off. Bellatrix remembered that day well, for it happened a mere three months ago. She could not believe her eyes when she woke up that morning and found movers in her house, slowly relocating all of the most expensive furniture that was to be auctioned off in the next few days. Her wreck of a man has finally done it, he has gotten them into such a money rut, that it made her feel beyond embarrassed and worthless.

She shared all of this with Narcissa, and begged her not to let anyone know the entire story.

She needn't have worried, her sister had no intention of letting the world know just how pathetic her closest relative's life was.

* * *

_ Aunt Bella?_ Draco could have sworn that he has just heard his aunties voice. _What could she be doing here_. He knew that his mother was not overly fond of her sister and could not imagine them all of a sudden being on speaking terms with each other, let alone on "having tea together" terms. He was so thrown aback by this strange occurrence that he forgot all about confronting his father, and opening the door to his room, simply stared down the hallway, waiting to hear more.

By the sound of it, his aunt was leaving and his mother was saying goodbye to her at the door. He could just make out a hearty "Love you Cissy, see you soon okay?" before the door slammed loudly and his mother's light footsteps began ascending the stairs. He hastened to close his own door and walked over to the window. Now was the time to go talk to his parents. He assumed that his father was home too, since Narcissa never went to bed so early unless her husband was in it with her._ She usually stayed up late into the night, reading at the bar in the kitchen for convenience's sake, since that is where she kept her "cheaper" wine selection. The one she liked to drink alone. The actual, unbelievably expensive, several-centuries-old collection, was kept down in the ancient wine cellar, but Narcissa was not overly fond of the idea of venturing into the dungeons of her mansion every time she fancied a drink. Which was quite often..._

Draco inhaled and crossed his room for the hundredth time that night. He stepped out into the hallway and started walking toward his parents' bedroom, located on the other end of the "family" wing. When he got there, he stopped and stood in front of the heavy wooden door for several minutes, gathering courage. Finally he knocked, and without waiting an obligatory ten seconds for an answer, did what he was well accustomed to doing in his own home – walked right in.

* * *

Narcissa walked in to find her husband reading a paper in bed. She was surprised that he was still awake, for he was normally out by ten, snoring like crazy by the time she got there. He looked up and at seeing her puzzled expression, quickly anticipated what she was about to ask and replied-"I was hoping we could have sex tonight. It has been a while since we had time to devote a couple of unrushed hours to it."

He said this as if it was the most mundane and normal thing to say. There was no passion in his voice, no romance. He knew he didn't need to bother with an act like that - his wife was not expecting it.

"Oh" was all she said in return, and began to take her clothes off. Lucius threw his paper haphazardly to the floor and crawled over to the opposite side of their enormous mattress. He was about to stand up and put his hands around her when he heard a quiet knock. Before he could tell whomever it was to go away, they turned the knob and swung the door wide open.

When the two of them looked up, they saw Draco standing in the doorway.

A/N K, here's chapter 7. Hope you like it ! Let me know what you guys think )


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**The way things were supposed to be**

Petunia sat in a muggle taxi that was taking her to King's Cross. She stared out of the window at the suburban scenery that she was leaving behind. Soon she will once again be standing in the house of her parents, the house where it all began. She was going home.

She was nervous, and nauseous, and more than a little scared, but she was also excited. Excited in a way that would not let her admit it even to herself. It turned out that after spending so many years pretending to be someone else, she actually _wanted_ to go home. She wanted to see the place where her family was once happy… before their parents died and all of the sisters went their separate ways.

Petunia sighed. She has been sighing a lot these days. The soon to be former Mrs Dursley, had a lot on her mind.

Here she was, in the midst of her life's biggest crisis and she was running away from it. She did not want to stay and deal. It was easier to simply run away. No one could blame her for doing this, after all this was not the first time she has done it. She has once before escaped a similar disaster. And she has done so by retreating into a life among the muggles.

Now Petunia was about to do the reverse. Today was the day. Today, she was going back to the magical world for the first time since she graduated Hogwarts.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes and for the tenth time that morning attempted to pull himself up in bed. It wasn't an easy task. For many days now, he has not been able to function properly. He could not keep lying to himself. Spending every night in semi consciousness while repeating over and over again that tomorrow the weariness will go away and he will be as good as new, was not working. Harry has had enough of self denial. At this point a trip to the doctor was inevitable. 

He tried to get up one more time and failing to do so, called a house elf to help him.

Fifteen minutes later he was on his feet, dressed, showered, and nearly ready to leave. The only problem was that he couldn't move very well. His body ached in protest with every step he took, coaxing Harry back into bed. Every single limb and muscle he possessed felt like it was dying.

He considered asking Draco to take him to hospital, but something told him that his friend wouldn't want to be bothered just then. Finding Lucius was out of question and going to St. Mungo's with Narcissa would prove to be far too awkward. So after giving it a quick thought, Harry practically crawled to the downstairs living room, hanging on to walls and railings for dear life. Grabbing a handful of floo powder from the pretty blue vase, he knelt with difficulty in front the fireplace. Throwing the dusty particles in and shaking his hand off, Harry Potter stuck his head into the fire.

It reappeared in another fire several seconds later. Caleb, who was in the process of eating an omelet in his mom's cozy little kitchen, was facing away from the fireplace and nearly jumped at hearing Harry's voice behind him.

"Hey" said Harry. "There's something wrong with me. I need help. Literally. I can barely move by myself. Will you take me to St. Mungo's?"

Caleb stared at Harry for about five seconds before blurting out the first thing that came to mind, -

"H-hh-arry. Whatddaya, uhh.. who what.. uh...Draco.." "Please," Harry cut him off. "But, _**Of course**_ mate. Hold on, I just have to get dressed and tell my parents." Caleb could hear the pain in Harry's voice and figured he couldn't waste much time inquiring what happened and why he wasn't with Draco. He immediately abandoned the remains of his breakfast and ran out of the room as fast as he could.

The Ralis family was pureblood, but did not have nearly as much money as the Potters or the Malfoys. Their house was quite comfortable and nice, but by the rich man's standard it was most definitely small. Even the fireplace in which Harry's head was located at the moment was rather cramped and consequently made one feel somewhat claustrophobic. Thankfully Harry did not have to stay there long, for Caleb was already sprinting down the stairs less than two minutes later. Harry exhaled hastily in relief, choked on a few stray ashes and pulled himself out of the fire and back into the Malfoy Manor. Ten seconds later that same fire turned green and Caleb joined him in the Malfoy living room.

"Oh my… Let's go." he said as soon as he saw Harry up close. His voice was firm and his posture rigid and determined.

"What?" his friend asked and moved a few feet to the left to glance into one of Mrs. Malfoy's numerous antic mirrors. "Aaa!" was all that he could manage upon seeing the reflection. His skin looked positively green, his eyes were clouded over with a weird shade of gray and little red streaks were running around his pupils. "Jesus!" he spoke again, after studying himself a little longer.

"Yeah.." came Caleb's nervous voice from nearby. He no longer sounded determined, and actually looked like he was going to be sick. "We really should get going mate. You don't look good and the longer I look at you, the worse I am beginning to feel…"

"Ok." Harry was still staring at himself, having a hard time tearing his eyes away from the mirror. Finally he managed to do so and turned to face his friend. "Ok. The floo powder is in that blue vase. Grab some and help me into the fire."

* * *

"Jen!" a thin, redheaded girl was yelling at her friend. "Jen, hello! Earth to Jenni!" 

"Huh?" the brunette she was talking to, finally responded. "I'm sorry I must have zoned out."

"Yeah you have! I have been trying to get your attention for over ten minutes now!" the first girl said with a smile on her face, while pretending to be angry. But then all pretense disappeared when she added -"If this is about Harry again, then I am honestly going to hit you. It has been two weeks! Even a troll would know by now that he is just-not-that-into-you!!"

"Please, Carla, leave me be. I don't want your advice, I didn't ask for sympathy and I am not hoping for your compassion. I promise. I am fine. Even if I am still thinking about him, it is solely my problem," the second girl half-heartedly snapped back. "And none of your business," she decided to add when she saw Carla opening her mouth again, getting ready to argue.

"Fine. Wallow in it for all I care. But I personally would have sent him a nasty curse in the mail by now and moved on to someone else!" She yelled throwing her friend a dirty look, and raising her nose high in the air, heroically stormed off.

"What makes you so sure I didn't?" Jen whispered to herself, as Carla walked away.

* * *

Father and son were sitting on the bed, and the mother stood directly behind her child, several steps away from the two of them. On the edge of the bed, at an equal distance from both Lucius and Draco, laid what appeared to be an old and hefty locket. (Only **one**of the things that Draco found in the study and took with him as proof.) 

The locket, or amulet rather, was very old and slightly tarnished. But even enveloped in the century old dirt it looked nothing short of magnificent. Its entire being reeked of something sinister and the magical aura around it was evidently dark. It didn't open, even though it had a deep contour running on the side, splitting it in half.

Draco didn't know exactly why his parents regarded him as stupid, except that they really must have regarded him as so, since only an idiot wouldn't know what this thing was. Made from solid gold, charmed shut by the evilest of magics and engraved with a large letter S on the front - it practically gave itself away. Draco has read a lot about magical artifacts in his five years at Hogwarts, he has studied Dark Arts books at home, and he has certainly seen enough of such relics at the various pureblood houses to be able to recognize one with ease. Especially **this** one. There was no doubt in his mind that he knew exactly _what_ this amulet was. He would almost be willing to stake his life on it, except that he wasn't that stupid.

"Do you see now why I couldn't tell you anything?" Lucius was saying in a quiet, caring voice. He appeared to be eerily calm, sitting on his own bed, half dressed. He was looking straight into Draco's eyes, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to reassure a panic stricken Narcissa, that he had everything under control. His son was much less calm, but it was obvious that his temper was gradually stabilizing with every sentence that his father uttered.

"I need you to understand and to accept the fact that I didn't tell you this before. I am telling you now and asking your forgiveness. It wasn't you I was protecting, I knew very well that you could take care of yourself. You are a strong boy, Draco. There is no doubt about that. I was trying to prolong the time when I would need to protect the rest of the world from you."

Lucius had just finished telling his son, what on some level, he has always known. Yet Draco was still blown away. His mind was processing the information but it still refused to accept it as truth.

"You are the heir of Slytherin.

The youngest descendant of the great house of Gaunts."

His mother's voice seemed distant, powerful and cold. She was now standing next to Lucius, with a hand on her husband's shoulder, speaking these words to him vigilantly, mysteriously… as if in a dream. Narcissa was reiterating what her husband has just explained.

_ You are the heir of Slytherin, _the words echoed in Draco's mind_. The words were etching themselves simultaneously, as his mother was speaking them, onto the insides of his closed eyelids in big bold letters. _He blinked, making the words disappear and revealing his parents sitting before him instead.He closed them again and this time his father's study swam into view._ The Dark Marks, the Death Eater cloaks, the thousands of old and new, completed and ongoing, meticulously written out maps and plans…_

_… of destruction… of murder… of blood._  
As he sat there dumbstruck, being anxiously watched by his parents, his face slowly started to twitch. Little by little, fighting its way out of him, a cold and conceited smile appeared on Draco's paper-thin lips.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 **Unfaithful**

Mrs. Malfoy sat at her desk, in the office that she had personally picked out and carefully decorated several years back. It was pretty late in the day already, but she has not been up too long. After several minutes of checking over her papers and other various correspondence, she sighed satisfactorily and grabbing a blank peace of parchment wrote a short note. Bringing the note to her lips quickly, she summoned her son's barn owl sent it on its way, while humming a cheery tune under her breath.

Lucius has now been gone for many hours and Narcissa was beginning to relax once again. She was sick of the puppy eyes that he normally made at her in bed, so very sick of his incessant fussing over her when she was looking overly thin and unhealthy, sick of him constantly criticizing her last season wardrobe, insisting that she buy herself more and more new clothes; all the while showering her with money, thinking that it solved absolutely everything. She was literally sick of it all. Her husband was smothering her, and she did not want to be smothered. For he was never there when she actually needed him, when she felt lonely or bored. He didn't even know that he was personally making his wife's life sinfully miserable and boring. He honestly thought that she was happy, which only went to prove how little he actually knew her.

All he truly cared about was money, fitting his family in between the days at the ministry, evenings at his rented properties, and mornings with his discrete business partners.

In fact Lucius only came home often enough to make himself feel good about his own life, pretending to be a caring and protective husband, but not to make his wife feel significant and wanted. She had told him a million times that they didn't need any more money; she told him that they were fine exactly as they were, and yet he argued that there could never be too much wealth and that business always came first in this materialistic world. Lucius thought that by buying his wife expensive things and providing her with life long security, he could also earn her love and her affection. But what she needed was not security and not the monetary protection. What she needed was his closeness and he couldn't give it to her. He wasted all of his efforts and energy on various dark dealings and corrupted business meetings, thinking that she was just fine being at home alone. Thinking that she would understand, hoping that she was happy. 

But she wasn't. She really wasn't. When Narcissa Black agreed to marry Lucius Malfoy all those years ago, she was saying yes to a man who loved her, a man who truly worshipped the very ground that she walked on, not a man who was in love with his work and his family's social position. She needed someone in her life. She wanted to be loved and wanted, like Lucius used to want her when they were in their teens. The way that he wanted her no more…

Narcissa needed to be close to somebody, and right now the only person she was truly close to was her only son. Her child was the only thing in this world that she still loved unconditionally.

That is why when Draco almost caught her the other day, Narcissa's heart nearly stopped. She knew that what she was doing was wrong, and she knew that it was very likely she would burn in hell for it, but she couldn't help herself. She couldn't stop.

After all, a bored-out-of-her-mind housewife would hardly be able to resist a young, successful, gorgeous aristocrat who was willing to hide their relationship from the rest of the world and content himself with sporadic get-togethers when the husband was out of the house.

It had started nearly eight months ago, when she was sitting alone at a café in Cannes, sipping espresso and eating a butter croissant in place of her usual breakfast. She was upset over her husband's late night contract drawing, which he has taken to doing while laying in bed at the time, staying glued to the documents for hours and hours and then expecting her to still be awake and turn it on whenever he was finished. Sex between the two of them has become a loveless routine that Lucius has come to accept as something that eventually dies off in every marriage, but Narcissa knew could still have been quite good if things between them stayed the way they used to be. If only they could still know how to share the old passion.

But unfortunately Narcissa had virtually no feelings left for the husband that she loved and respected unconditionally once upon a time. Many years have passed since she stopped loving him, and the respect she felt also dissolved itself with time.

She thought with a pang about those contracts and sorely regretted the foreplay, which they have so cruelly replaced. Poring over his business documents, instead of flirty kissing, jotting down work ideas instead of playing with her clothes… Narcissa made an attempt to put it out of her mind and took a sip of coffee. But it was no good. She could not get rid of that empty feeling inside just by willing herself to.

Such torturous routine was exactly what has happened in her bedroom the night before, and now she sat there fuming with rage, the displeasure she was feeling etched in every single line of her delicate features.

At that very same moment a waiter approached her with a flower and a note that, as he promptly informed her, came from the gentleman sitting near the door, who wished that such a beautiful woman's flawless face would never again take on such an ugly, miserable expression.

Having skimmed the note, Narcissa looked around and stared at the young man who wrote it. Biting her lower lip, she considered it for a moment and then turned away. The gentleman was young, too young - at least ten years her junior; he was immaculately dressed and wore a rather "knowing" smile on his attractive face. Narcissa refused to believe that he did not have an ulterior motive.

Thus, giving in to her cynical self, she immediately tore the note apart, stuck the rose into her empty water glass and pointedly stormed right out of the place. But the handsome stranger came back the very next day and the day after that and another day after that, always looking at her, always hoping that she would finally consent to talk to him. She had to admit she was intrigued, for there could be no other reason that explained exactly why she continued going back there.

She stopped eating her meals at home, and for several weeks had aparrated to the tiny little street on the outskirts of Cannes every morning, just so she could do some silent "window-shopping". After all, there was no harm in _looking_ and imagining the beautiful young fellow being on top of her, instead of Lucius, her husband. The thoughts of the stranger consumed her entire existence and for weeks she could not get his image out of her mind and the daydreams of him out of her everyday life. But she was determined not to give in…  
And then finally, one day, she broke her code.

The overly exhausted Mrs. Malfoy came into the café that morning and instead of going to her usual table, made straight for the place where this guy was sitting, and plumped herself down into a chair right across from him, wearing a flirtatious smile on her smooth and glossy lips.

"Hi." She breathed in her low, melodic voice and waited for a reaction. 

"…Hi!" His tone of voice showed that he was startled, but recovering quickly, the young man went on-"Hello. Hello at last! I never thought you would actually consider talking to me, after spending all this time ignoring all of my attempts at introduction…" He was certainly taken aback, but anyone could tell that the surprise was more than pleasant. He waved the waiter over, indicating that they were in need of more espresso without taking his eyes away from her.

"Well, I figured late was always better than never. To tell the truth, I have been wanting to for ages. I just needed to get up my nerve. You know..." She told him cheerfully, while lifting her left hand and pointing at the enormous diamond wedding ring, glimmering dangerously in the early morning light.

"I knew you did, that is why I have been coming back here every day for over a month now. I had to at least see you, to watch your figure and admire you from faraway, if not be able to physically enjoy your presence. I don't know exactly why, but I simply couldn't get my mind off you.

And I don't care that you're married, _Mrs. Malfoy_, I really want to get to know you anyway." He said this with such simplicity, such ease and happiness in his young but truly confident voice, that Narcissa couldn't help but smile right back at him.

_ So he knew her. Who in the world could he possibly be? He looked no older than about twenty-eight, tall with dark and messy hair, he had gentle chocolate brown eyes and the most charming smile that she had seen in years. She didn't know of any wizards that could match such a description, no older woman and no man who could possibly turn out to be his parent._

At seeing the confusion on her otherwise completely flawless face, he hastily went on to clarify - "Yes, I know who you are Narcissa. May I call you that? Narcissa? You have such a beautiful name.

I don't actually know your husband, but I know of him, and after seeing you here that time when you were nearly in tears, I couldn't help but think that you looked rather familiar. That is why, as soon as I got home, I pulled up all the archives that I had of last year's Daily Prophet and sure enough several issues back there was a photo of the two of you out and about on a Friday night in London. I have to admit, I was completely jealous. Such a pompous, callous man does not deserve a wife like you… Forgive me, I hope that you don't find my words too glib or corny. Or offensive, certainly not offensive, I would never want to seem officious or condescending!" 

He was getting rather nervous; his words were beginning to sound jittery and the confidence she heard in his tone earlier was all but gone. _Oh my, he must really be interested... Who would have thought that at my age of almost forty, I could still attract a twenty something, not even fully man but almost _**_boy_**_… He was talking like a gibbering young fool! Oh if only I could disallow myself to find his words romantic…! _She almost moaned with burning longing and desire - looking at his gorgeous face and rippling muscles made her want to jump at him right there and then. She knew she shouldn't do this, but the carelessness that she adopted earlier that morning and already displayed by sitting down with him in the first place, had pushed Narcissa farther than it ever has before.

_ Ah, who cares, a woman needs to indulge herself once in a while… _And without so much as a preamble, following the intense impulse, which came from somewhere around her pelvic region, she immediately said –

"Want to come back to my place? We have a flat in central London… You know to get to know each other better."

Narcissa didn't even blush. She heard herself say the words and had to admit that they sounded cheap, but her appearance didn't show it.

_ E_ven if she did come off like a high-class prostitute, she realized a second later that she truly didn't care; men have been having casual sex for ages, it was time for the women of this world to catch right up.She was worn and exhausted, confused and unhappy, so what did she really have to lose?

Deciding not to worry about it any further, Narcissa simply waited for him to speak.

He grinned and leaned back in his chair, surveying her appearance carefully, before whispering sarcastically - "Don't you want to finish your coffee first?"

The relaxed, matter-of-fact tone of voice, made Narcissa laugh, and for first time in a really long time, she let herself throw back the long locks of her blonde and wavy hair while giggling uninhibitedly, not much unlike a schoolgirl in front of a crush. 

"Well, yes, I suppose I do." She considered him carefully one more time, before shouting – " Waiter, could I get more sugar over here!"

She chuckled again before deciding go on – "On the second thought, let's do this properly." She grinned, moved forward in her chair and gracefully extended her right hand in his direction. "I'm Narcissa. It is very nice to meet you."

He smiled happily -

"No, no. It is entirely _my_ pleasure, I assure you! I'm Anton, nice to meet you too, Narcissa. No, scratch that, not _nice_ – amazing is a better word." His grin could not be any wider; he positively glowed with warmth and happiness, still staring at her as if he has been mesmerized.

"Well then, now that that's settled, shall we order some dessert to go with those espressos?" The genuine expression on her face extended far beyond the lips; her eyes were also smiling; her posture and her countenance were shining bright at last.


	10. Chapter 10

**A Busy Day.**

Hermione Granger got up bright and early on this hot summer day in the middle of July. Fred and George Weasley were opening their store in the Diagon Alley, and Hermione, being practically part of the family already, was certainly expected to be there.

She was already in the bathroom brushing her hair up into an unkempt ponytail when Ron walked in with a deliciously smelling breakfast tray and coffee. She saw him through the reflection in the mirror and grinned. Tossing the hairbrush aside, she hopped out of the bathroom and nearly knocked the food over while giving him an enthusiastic hug.

Ron carefully put the tray down and drew her in for an animated kiss. They were young and full of energy and technically didn't even need coffee to wake themselves up in the morning, but over the years of living with the Grangers it became a natural habit. That is why several minutes later when they finally broke apart, they immediately went for the two hot lattes sitting in the midst of syrup-soaked pancake stacks.

After a few hurried sips, Hermione put the cup back down and plopped onto the bed while pulling the tray towards her.

"Mmm, baby, these are amazing! I swear if you weren't already set with the Quidditch career, you could open up a restaurant and literally rake in the cash with your exceptional culinary skills!" Hermione moaned as she licked off the syrup from the fork she used to pile eggs onto her pancakes.

"You're only saying that so I would continue bringing you breakfast in bed," Ron laughed and leaned in to peck her lips lightly. At this she made a sad face and pretended to pout.

"Ronnn. You're so awful! I am actually hurt that you would say that. You have to make it up to me now…" She exclaimed sarcastically while playfully batting her lashes.

Ron smiled and moved his face right up to her lips, before saying -"Ill make it up to you. _Later,_ since right now we need to be leaving if we are going to make it there on time" in a very monotonous voice, squeezing in words between kisses.

* * *

In the waiting room of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies, Harry Potter was rapidly losing control over his consciousness. Caleb Ralis was sitting in the chair next to him, shooting worried looks at everyone in the room, while getting up and pacing around from time to time. They have been waiting for over an hour now, and still the line seemed not to be getting any thinner. Few of the people in front of him included a girl sporting two large wings growing out of her shoulder blades, an old man with a kettle attached to the bald spot on his head and a slightly younger fellow whose nose was growing inwards as if someone had forcefully wrung it inside out.

At first Harry eyed them with interest, but thirty minutes later he could barely even stay upright in his chair, let alone use his brain to take in and study the appearances of others.

Every time he closed his eyes he could see a tall dark faceless figure looming on him, and almost every other time there was a girl standing nearby. The blonde girl, the one he first saw at Hogwarts and the one that nobody else could see. He used to wonder why. He used to think that someday he would find out who she was and why she was or rather wasn't there. By about his third year there, however, he started to give up. He kept seeing her and dreaming about her, and even asking others for ideas on how to find out more, yet nothing ever became of it, so eventually he simply had to admit defeat.

But as he was sitting in the hospital now, the idea didn't seem too ludicrous, and perhaps he finally had his chance. Maybe he could find the psych ward and tell them all about the "symptoms" of his hallucination, and they would know exactly what was wrong. Did he dare even hope this? Harry sat there in a kind of stupor, weighing everything up… Having come to St. Mungo's for a completely different, physical reason, he was now entertaining ideas about getting a consult from a shrink.

He turned to Caleb and considered asking him to go and find the right floor, but before he could open his mouth to speak, a tall nurse came out from behind the staff partition and called his name.

"Harry Potter? This way please."

* * *

Meanwhile at the Leaky Cauldron pub, a middle-aged woman was ordering what felt like the tenth drink that hour, while slurring like crazy, even on the simplest one-syllable words. She wasn't planning on ending up there at all when she left her house the previous morning, but somewhere between the ten AM cappuccino and the two o'clock piece of pizza, she all of a sudden started feeling that she just didn't have the strength to do what she set out to, and thus was desperately in need of a courage-building cocktail. She was still drinking those cocktails twenty-four hours later, having passed out at the inn the night before and forced to get a room.

This was a new morning, a new day, but she was still sitting pathetically at the same old dirty bar, talking to the same retarded bartender whom she has gotten to know pretty well, unable to make herself leave.

_I have to go through with it, I have to_ – she kept repeating over and over in her head. _I have no other choice._

She really didn't. There was only one way for her to go, and right now she was stalling, but not changing the course of events. But she had a good reason to be afraid. A reason to feel that no one would want to see her, help her or even listen to anything she had to say. She told them all to go to hell once, and now she expected nothing more, nothing less, than the same thing from them. _They will tell me to go to hell. _She thought bitterly and sobbed quietly into her martini. She pulled out a compact mirror from a purse and scowled at her mascara-leaked, bleary-eyed reflection. She didn't yet know if everyone would want to send her to hell, but she sure as crap looked like _it_.

She was about to order herself another dry martini when someone gasped loudly from right behind her –

"Petunia Evans?!? Peta? Good God. Is it really you?"

Petunia whipped around instantly, nearly flinging herself off the barstool. _Who here could possibly still remember her and let alone know her childhood name?_ Forgetting all about another martini and the drink that was still in her hand, she blinked the smeared mascara away and stared intensely at the speaker. Her own mouth dropped open as soon as she recognized the features on the stranger's face as her old best friend's, from way back when she went to school in the magical world.

There she was, all five foot ten of her, standing so casually in front of Petunia… The blonde with the perfect body. And judging the way she was dressed - a very large bank account.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy had never planned to unveil the most important family secret to his teenage son. His only son. Well, not _just then_, anyway.

Draco was too precious, too important to him, in order to be placed under so much danger, which his knowing the truth about the Malfoy lineage would certainly invoke. The boy was brilliant, that was true, but he was still only a teenager - a hormonal adolescent who by no means could control the feelings of infinite power and superiority that came naturally with his birthright. He was arrogant and self-worshipping enough as it is, and knowing that he was the last in line of the great Salazar Slytherin's posterity could only go too hard to his head and ultimately land him in trouble of gigantic proportions.

But his boy turned out to be even smarter and more persistent than the father ever dreamed he could be, and he, Lucius Malfoy himself, was cornered. He weeded the truth out of his parents, and Lucius has always thought that if one can find the means to get what he wants against all odds, then he deserves to get it. Draco had obviously deserved the truth.

Lucius had no regrets about it. The Malfoys never had regrets. What's done is done, there was no way of turning back the past. And he wouldn't want to. Even with all of the illegal time turners that he owned and presently kept in the depths of the manor's basement. Besides, it was not as if he had told Draco the entire truth. There was more to it than the simple matter of the boy's true lineage. Other people and their identities were involved, and _that_ will forever remain undisclosed, until such a time comes when Lucius will deem it necessary for his son and heir to know everything to the last drop.

And that time has not come yet.

* * *

Ron and Hermione arrived at the Diagon Alley right after Molly Weasley did. They were supposed to meet Bill, Fleur, Fred, George, Ginny and the rest of the gang before making plans for the day, together.

They walked down the street looking for the store that they were sure would be displaying horribly bright, crazy colors and sporting ridiculous product demos outside the front door. Sure enough they saw almost exactly that, five minutes later.

"Fred! Get down here right now!" Molly Weasley was yelling at her son, who was hovering high up above the pavement affixing a brand new sign to the building that contained his ready-to-be-opened joke store.

"Ok, ok mum no need to get worked up about it. I am about done anyway."

"Good. You almost gave me a heart attack. Come and let me hug my favorite Diagon Alley store owner!"

"Owner_s_, mom! Are you forgetting there's two of us?"

Tears have appeared underneath her eyes as both of the twins came rushing at their mother and kissed each of her cheeks at the same time.

"Ooh I can't believe that you actually did it! Fred, George, I am thoroughly impressed,"- Hermione spoke up, after Molly had stopped talking and proceeded to wipe away the now freely flowing tears off her face.

"Oh Hermione, you have no idea what that means to us. Hearing you say that, I mean." George Weasley immediately offered.

"Since you know, - nothing is ever good enough for you..." Fred couldn't resist chiming in after his twin, but had to bite his tongue right after.

They had really put a foot in it this time. Everyone knew that what the twins just slipped about Hermione was true, but nobody has ever been stupid enough to say it. The Weasleys knew perfectly well that their youngest son's girlfriend was not the world's most easygoing creature, but they also knew that Ron and Hermione were an excellent match, and therefore swore to never do anything that could ruin the relationship. They were more than happy to make fun of them in secret of course, but would never dream of saying such things to their faces.

And now the twins have finally slipped, causing Molly, Ron and most importantly Hermione to stare at them dumbstruck.

In an attempt to fix the situation, after seeing the startled looks on everybody's faces, Fred and George hustled to assure the young couple that they were in fact kidding, -

"Oh gosh, Mia, please don't look at us that way! You know he didn't mean to say it." George was pleading desperately, nudging Fred subtly in the ribs, asking for his help.

"He's right. I'm very, very sorry! Let's all forgive and forget. We love you, Hermione, you know that, and we are very much looking forward to having you as a sister in law one day!" Fred looked sincere, and Hermione knew it to be true. After standing in silence for another couple of minutes, she finally relaxed her features and stomping her left foot, replied -

"You know, you two are unbelievably thickheaded. I stand by what I said before. It's shocking! It is no wonder that we all doubted you would ever have the skills or smarts to open anything beyond a Hogwarts broom closet! Forget about a Diagon Alley shopping store."

That was a surprisingly excellent comeback, which left the Weasleys gawking at the cheeky witch, without having anything to say. Until Molly had finally found her voice and coaxed at all of them:

"There, there dear, should we all go inside?!" She was impatient for the outburst to be over. "We know Fred and George are not as bright as you. Let's not take anything they say too seriously!"

"Sure Molly." Hermione replied coolly and grabbing Ron's hand, led the way into the store.

Half an hour later she walked out of it with Ginny and Fleur in tow. The girls decided to take a break from the rest of the predominantly male family, and go have lunch somewhere in London where they haven't been yet. Mostly for Fleur's benefit, since this young, French girl did not know England very well, and was eager to see new things and try new places. Ginny suggested a Squatters Brewery, which she had heard served spectacular fish. So the three of them set off in that direction, chatting merrily, discussing the upcoming school year and their life plans for after Hogwarts.


	11. Chapter 11

** Down the Alleyway**

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, how good to see you! What would you like today?" a waiter at the West London Squatters Pub and Brewery asked with a huge smile on his face, in anticipation of a large tip he usually got when his favorite client came over.

"A seltzer and a couple of tequila shots," was the short reply.

"Would you care to have that with a side of fresh smoked salmon that we just got in this morning?" The unwavering smile on the waiter's face got larger, for whenever Malfoy ordered booze he tipped even more.

"Yeah, sure. And hurry up, I don't have time to wait around all day." He snapped back.

"Coming right up, sir!" the waiter winked and disappeared. He knew very well that Malfoy was not of age, but chose to disregard the little fact, figuring that he would rather have that young man as friend than as an enemy.

There was quite a crowd assembled at the joint today, and the door kept opening and closing, admitting and releasing more and more people as each minute passed. The patrons who have already gotten their food were barely paying attention to this frequent annoyance and were happily chatting away to whomever they came with without looking at the door.

Draco however, was watching it like a hawk. He sat alone in his favorite dark corner, unnoticed by anyone, muggle or wizard alike. His water arrived first, since it was always brought out by a random server, so that his waiter wouldn't have to bother.

He sipped the cold, lemon-y liquid and squinted at a group of girls that just walked in. They looked familiar and in the back of his mind he vaguely dismissed a thought that he most probably knew them. It didn't matter anyway at the time.

As soon as he decided not to worry about it, the hostess gave the room an appraising look and started walking the girls toward the corner where he was sitting. _Oh shit, _he thought, and quickly put up the menu in front of his face. As they have gotten closer he recognized the three of them immediately. Hermione Granger, the freaky mudblood Ravenclaw know-it-all, the gorgeous French girl that resembled a veela and competed in the TriWizard tournament, and Ginny Weasley, a good looking redhead that played on the Gryffindor quidditch team, who Draco somewhat liked. _What the hell were they doing there?_Draco angrily swore inside his mind and carefully peeked around the edge of his menu. They were being seated at the table, which was facing him full on.

He started panicking, he simply could not have them sitting at the next table when he was about to have an important, not to mention private, meeting. Desperately racking his brains for ideas on how to avoid being seen by them, he arrived only on one conclusion – he would have to leave and fast, before his other party arrived, and it would be too late. There was no way he could stay unnoticed once his party actually got there. He would rather risk seeming to have stood someone up, than stay there and inevitably get exposed.

At that precise moment he spotted his waiter happily nodding his head and pointing in Draco's direction before starting to lead another man over to him. _Time to go._ Draco almost knocked the table over when he flew up onto his feet, clumsily swirled around to face the back of the restaurant and ran like hell for the kitchens, which he knew would lead him out the back alleyway. The noise he made, caused the three young women sitting nearby to look over, and curiously stare at the quickly retreating blonde figure, which inadvertently paused in front of the kitchen entrance for half a second to look over his shoulder, but that second was enough –

"Draco Malfoy?!" Ginny and Hermione exclaimed in unison, just as he had finally disappeared through the double doors.

* * *

Harry walked out of the Healer's office, feeling significantly better. Even though they couldn't tell exactly what was wrong with him, they managed to find a potion which had subdued the symptoms and lifted his mood immediately. Caleb looked pretty relieved, and set out straight for the fireplaces which would promptly lead the two of them out of the hospital.

They decided to apparate back to the Malfoy Manor and see if Draco was home. As soon as they stepped out of the fire in the main living room they spotted Lucius crouching over an unfortunate house elf, who has apparently failed to inform him about where Mrs. Malfoy has gotten off to this morning.

"I'm sorry sir! I don't know where Mrs. Narcissa was going! I'm sorry, I am very very sorry. I must go iron my hands now!" The elf sobbed, while hitting his head against a nearby couch.

"Uh Mr. Malfoy?" Harry coughed to draw attention to himself. "Have you seen Draco?"

"Oh, hello Harry. How are you feeling today? My wife tells me that you have been under the weather lately?" Lucius's gray eyes studied the two young boys carefully. "Caleb." He acknowledged his son's other friend coolly with a nod.

"Hi Mr. Malfoy." Caleb squeaked uncertainly, unable to tell whether Draco's father was mad to see him in his house without a prior invitation.

"I have not seen Draco today, Harry. Have you seen my wife?" Lucius went on, as if Caleb hasn't spoken.

"Uh, no, no I have not. I was feeling awful and haven't seen anyone but Dobby the house elf, who helped me get dressed this morning."

"Hmm. Well, you should get something to eat in the kitchens, the lunch was excellent." With that he turned around and grabbing the elf by his ears dragged the creature out of the room.

"That was odd," commented Caleb, staring at the door through which the two just disappeared.

His friend chose to ignore that.

"So, want to go eat then? I'm starving. For the first time in days." Harry chuckled. He was now quite cheerful and the prospect of having the Malfoy cook's famous omelet patties elevated his mood even more.

"Sure, I hate hospitals and having some food in my stomach might make it stop tingling with that negative sensation." Caleb grinned and followed Harry through the complicated maze of rooms, downward across the mansion and into the large, decorated in the French fashion, kitchen.

The cook was busy clearing away the uneaten lunch remains. The "remains" turned out to be a massive amount of untouched snacks and entrees, since the only person who came down to eat was Mr. Malfoy. Harry and Caleb happily relieved the chef of the majority of the above-mentioned provisions, taking it all into the nearby guest bedroom to diminish away from prying servants' eyes.

"I weallee wondew where Dwako hezz gotten to" Harry managed to squeeze out despite of all the food he was currently chewing. Caleb was digesting an even bigger amount in his mouth, and therefore did not reply right away.

Swallowing hastily, he suggested – "We should go to London and visit his flat, maybe he is there."

"Yeah! Great idea. And that way we could also stop by the Diagon Alley and check out the new version of the Firebolt. It was supposed to go on sale last week." Harry cried enthusiastically before biting into his chocolate croissant. Not that he needed a new broomstick, considering that Mr. Malfoy bought Harry and Draco a new one almost every month, and they had more than thirteen forgotten broomsticks each, which have been sitting in the kitchen closet, unused for ages.

"Let me just run upstairs and get my money bag, in case I want to purchase something." Harry swallowed the last piece and got up from the bed.

"Ok, lets go." Caleb grabbed a few more pecan tarts and stuffed them in his pocket before strolling out of the door.

Having flooed themselves to London, the boys got out of the fireplace and looked around the flat. There was a steaming cup of coffee sitting on the living room table and a fresh newspaper tossed to its right side.

"So, I'm guessing Draco has already been here…" Caleb spoke, after surveying the deadly silent space around them.

"Looks like it. Want to see if there's any food in the fridge?" Harry moved toward the kitchen, Caleb at his heels.

"You're kidding! We just ate a freaking cow, are you still hungry?" His friend laughed, vividly remembering Harry's usual displays of gluttony back in the Hogwarts walls.

"Ha Ha." Harry replied while stuffing a piece of chicken into his mouth and closing the refrigerator door. Turning around he strode over to the couch and plumped down in front of the tv.

"We're not watching that, are we Harry? I hate that muggle box thing." Caleb whined, and prodded the remote with apprehension, as he sat down next to him.

"Nah, let me just digest my lunch for just a second. And then we'll go." He smiled glancing at the table in front of him and leaned all the way back, closing his eyes and getting comfy. "Wait. What's that on the front page?" He re-opened his eyes and suddenly pointed to the paper, which was tossed aside next to the half empty cup of coffee. Caleb picked it up and handed the slightly wrinkled, coffee stained Daily Prophet over to him.

There, in the moving black and white picture was an image of Draco's aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange. The short blib below it was accusing her of Death Eater activity and illegal money laundering.

"What in the world..?" Caleb was reading it over Harry's shoulder with his mouth hanging open. "Did you know this Harry? That's Draco's aunt, isn't it?" He asked, surprise evident in his every muscle.

Harry was silent for a good minute and a half. And then he spoke. "No. I think this is a load of bullshit to tell you the truth. Daily Prophet often prints completely unsupported totally absurd libels…" He bit his lip and looked up at the wall, thinking in a semi daze.

He didn't really know what to say to Caleb. Harry scratched his head and thought to himself – _I think she was at the Manor a few days ago… If it wasn't all in my head as part of my feverish hallucination. _It has been so long since he had seen and interacted with any family members at the Manor, that even though Draco had visited him in his "sick" room at least once a day, it seemed as if two months have passed since Harry has fallen ill.

"I don't know, Caleb." He groaned and closed his eyes one more time, rubbing them with his hands. "Let's go to the Diagon Alley like we talked about and then if Draco isn't back home by tonight, we will send him an owl… I am getting a little worried, he did not visit me yesterday and now that I feel better I distinctly remember noticing that he has not been looking healthy lately. It didn't really register before, when I felt like I was dying, but now I realize that he truly did look bad."

"You know, he _was_ acting a little weird when I saw him last week. He seemed uneasy and preoccupied. That's not the usual Draco! I don't suppose that had anything to do with you?"

"I doubt it. I didn't really begin to worry about my semi conscious state until two days ago, so Draco didn't have a reason to either. Something else must have been bothering him." Harry ruffled his hair and sighed. Staring out into the space, he looked rather pensive, for the first time in many years.

It was not often that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had something to worry about. Nothing ever went wrong in their lives, so the events of the past few weeks were far out of the ordinary to say the least. Now that he thought about it, everything really _has_ changed quite a bit in the past year. Lucius and Narcissa no longer seemed happy; she spent a lot of time away and he all but stopped living at the Manor altogether. Draco didn't spend much time around his parents anymore and what's more - he wasn't bothered by it. Three or four years ago, this never would have happened. No matter how busy Mr. Malfoy used to be, he always found time to come home at least once a day, and now he stayed away for four to five days in a row. Although the Malfoys still acted like a passionate couple in public, to the people who were close to them it was rather obvious that a drift in the marriage had surfaced.

Narcissa gradually grew cold and distant from the two boys as well as the rest of the household. She used to be a charming and a friendly woman. She always treated Harry like an equal, never talking down to him or ignoring a single thing he had to say. And lately she has become apathetic in respect to him at best. She often used to say that he looked a lot like his dad, with whom she went to Hogwarts all those years ago. She'd tell him a story or two about disrupted classes and impromptu detentions, laughing bitterly at the memories of her own youth. She didn't talk that much, and when she did, the topic almost always revolved around reminiscences of her own days at Hogwarts. But Harry was grateful for whatever he could get. Nobody else had ever mentioned his mother and father to him; not even once. Harry was beginning to think that someone made them up, and they had never existed in the first place. That is why he often looked forward to the few fleeting minutes every week when he would see Mrs. Malfoy and she would have some time to spare and talk about the past. Harry often sensed that it was painful for her. He assumed that was the reason why no one else had ever mentioned the Potters; it must be painful for them too. It was an awkward but enjoyable relationship; both Harry and Narcissa were okay with it.

But it has now been months since Harry heard her mention Hogwarts. She stopped talking to the boys at breakfast, and only smiled pleasantly, whenever he had caught her eye by accident. She never mentioned her husband and all but ignored Draco whenever his friends were around.

Lucius also began to scare him more and more with his prolonged mysterious absences. Soon, Harry stopped trusting him completely. Especially after the trip to his aunt's, details of which were becoming blurrier and blurrier in his mind every day. He still had an uneasy feeling that Lucius might have had something to do with his inexplicable blackout and maybe the illness itself. He had a lot of time to think when he was laying ill, but found himself losing consciousness every time he tried to come close to any memories of Lucius.

Rubbing his scar, Harry Potter sighed again and turned to look at Caleb. He toyed with the possibility of telling his close friend those thoughts, but decided against it.

"Ready to go?" He asked dryly.

"Yeah. Let's." Caleb replied just as unenthusiastically.

Together they grabbed fistfuls of floo powder and one by one disappeared into the fire.

**A/N Do review ! and enjoy reading chapter 11 )**


	12. Chapter 12

**Catching up**

Petunia Evans sat rather still, - dumbstruck, gaping at the woman who was standing beside her. She was becoming increasingly more conscious of the appalling way her unwashed hair was hanging around her mascara stained cheekbones and the pathetic angles at which her two-day-old clothes stuck to her un-showered body. She was now severely kicking herself for looking like a homeless person. In her impeding crisis she had completely let herself go – and there could be no greater contrast between the two old friends who were currently staring at each other in shock.

The woman in front of Petunia looked simply impeccable. Her long blonde hair was adorned with a beautiful golden barrette; her wizard's robes were apparently covering up a gorgeous Chanel sundress, and in her hand she was clutching a purse from Prada.

Instantly Petunia's eye was drawn to the enormous diamond rock on the woman's second finger. She was married. Petunia's shrewd, gossip trained mind immediately started racking her memory and jumping from man to man, considering which ones were the most likely candidates to be the woman's husband. The conclusion she arrived at was the only possible explanation for the conspicuous ways in which her friend was so openly flaunting her money. It had to be Lucius Malfoy.

As soon as she had decided upon that particular candidate, her suspicion was confirmed when two voices spoke simultaneously: Tom, the bartender, boomed - "Mrs. Malfoy, can I get you started with a drink? " and she screeched - "Petunia! What are you doing here?"

Petunia swallowed and looking carefully from one to the other softly mumbled - "Narcissa Black."

"Petunia Evans," Narcissa said with a smile and then turned quickly to the bartender, - "Yes, Tom, can I get a firewhisky on the rocks, please."

"Sure thing, ma'am," he almost curtseyed to her as he turned away. Tom had actually been watching them beadily from his side of the counter for a while now, and for the life of him, he could not figure out how somebody as classy and aristocratic as Narcissa Malfoy could be talking to that pathetic, drunken "dirty Harriett" of a woman. However that may be, Mrs. Malfoy was in no hurry to get away from there; she stood quite still, thoroughly ignoring everyone around her, and before Tom knew it - the two women were locked in an embrace, hugging and crying; leaving him utterly bewildered.

"What - what in the world – are you doing - here?" Narcissa managed to stutter out between being squeezed to death by an overjoyed Petunia. She also had a smile on her face, although she would never allow herself to cry in public. Even if they were the tears of joy.

"I… - am back." Petunia said finally. There was nothing more that she could add to that at the moment. Too much time had passed since the last time she saw Narcissa. They have both gotten married; moved away from their old homes; build entire lives away from each other… It would have taken far too long to even begin to explain everything that led up to the reason that brought her there that day. She couldn't talk.

And so she cried. She smiled and laughed through her happy tears, unable to bring herself to blurt out the fact that her life was over, her husband left and she has nowhere to go. Without consciously meaning to, she let her tears turn into the tears of sorrow. She just kept crying, looking sadly at Narcissa, letting her sobs say it all without having to talk.

Narcissa understood. There was only one reason Petunia would ever be back amongst the wizards – an irreversible tragedy. She understood and nodded, no longer asking any questions. Petunia was grateful for it. After all these years her perfect friend remained just as perfect as she ever was – Narcissa always knew when to talk, when to laugh and when to shut up. She could tell that Petunia was in trouble, and the best thing to do was to let her cry.

They must have stood there for nearly five minutes, before Tom cleared his throat loudly and offered them some snacks to go with all the drinks. Only then did Petunia finally pull away and sit back down onto the stool she was using earlier.

"My god, Peta… You look so different now. I barely even recognized you!" Mrs. Malfoy said with a start. Her entire body lunged forward in an awkward sort of move, as she lowered herself down, next to her mess of friend, while blinking stupidly. She didn't dare look upset, or shocked, or disappointed; but it was all she could do to keep her face agreeably blank.

And yet Petunia either didn't notice or really didn't care; her tear-stained face was kind and soft - a very unnatural for Petunia, combination. She clasped her palms and reaching out, touched Narcissa's hand, -

"But _you_, Narcissa, look the same as ever. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were still sixteen." Petunia chuckled at her own truthful words and swiftly closed her eyes. As soon as her lids met her lower lashes, she could immediately see the two of them looking twenty years younger, _walking down the edge of the forest by the old gamekeeper's hut_, as if it were only yesterday. Petunia smiledas she watched_ a fourteen-year-old Narcissa run ahead of her on the path, laughing freely into the silence of enormous, magnificent trees; pausing for a moment, Narcissa stooped and grabbing a little stone off the ground flung it as hard as she could into the midst of green leaves hanging low off their branches, rustling threateningly, as if intending to swallow the students who ventured too near them whole. The stone disappeared into the trees without as much as a whistling sound; the two girls just stood there, watching the spot where it had been…_

At that moment, Tom, the bartender, came over with a bill and not quite making it to the part of the counter where Petunia was sitting, he halted and gaped incredulously at the smiling, muggle-witch woman who was beginning to look positively insane. Her eyes were still closed and her vacant expression was that of a blissful being... – so different from what she had been only ten minutes ago. He couldn't guess that she was simply lost in thought, taking a trip down the memory lane. His concerned gaze was caught my Mrs. Malfoy, who quickly snatched the check out of his hand and gently waved him off, silently ordering him not to disturb Petunia. He walked away, shaking his head and mumbling something about pureblooded indecency.

And then, all of a sudden, Petunia's eyes snapped open and an expression of horror grew on her lined and tired face. Narcissa almost fell over backwards, it was so unexpected.

"But then, - … you must be – … It can't be! Have I really been this stupid!" She paused, looking up into Narcissa's alarmed face. "But it all makes sense… I suppose. Cissy, are you - does my… _nephew_ live with you!?"

Mrs. Malfoy drew in a sharp breath and blinked several times before mumbling incoherently, -"Oh, my… Good God, he _IS _your nephew, isn't he. _In the name of Merlin_, HOW could that have never crossed my mind!!!"

Narcissa was truly shocked this time. She knew, of course that Harry Potter was the son of Lily Evans, and that Lily was Petunia's younger sister, but she has never, in the past five years thought to put the two and two together. When her husband went to meet the relatives that Draco's friend was living with, she didn't go with him. When he came back and told her all about the vile muggles, she half listened, half attempted not to nod off – it simply didn't interest her.

Ever since Draco befriended Harry Potter, Narcissa made it a strict rule to avoid getting close to him at all costs, for a very personal and painful reason. Lucius was not aware of this reason, but Petunia knew it all too well. For Lucius's benefit, she tried to act as if did not bother her; she always treated Harry very warmly, unable to resist having a heart-felt talk from time to time about her own school days, when James and Lily were alive and well.

But for the most part, Narcissa Black did her best to repress inside her memory the very reason Harry Potter came into existence, almost sixteen years ago. She wanted nothing more than to forget about the night his parents died, and he had disappeared off the radar, into a life among the muggles, away from the magical world. And now it had finally struck her that Petunia and her husband must have been the very "muggles" who have been taking care of James Potter's son following the night when his wife and him were killed. Really, if she cared to think about it, who else could it have been? Heather? Had she really believed, deep inside her mind that Heather Evans was the one appointed guardian over Lily's little boy? Indeed, she did think that. After Petunia had vanished shortly after seventh year, Narcissa thought that she had died, or fled the country… She never thought that Petunia stayed where she was, married a muggle and settled down in Surrey, while bringing up the wizard boy sensation – Harry Potter.

"Petunia, why have you never come forward and let me know you were alive?"

"I didn't want the wizarding world to know that I _**was**_ alive. Especially you, Narcissa. You were the one person in the entire Hogwarts school, who actually meant something to me as a friend. I might not have had the strength to disappear, if I had kept in touch with you." She sounded sincere. Her tears have finally subsided and the mascara underneath her eyes was carelessly wiped away. "I had no idea that this 'Lucius' fellow, who have been meeting with my husband every time he came to pick up Harry, was _the_ Lucius Malfoy! Dear Lord, I've worked so hard to block everything out, I completely forgot to make that obvious association!"

Neither woman could believe the absurdity of the entire situation. Their "children" have been best friends for the past five years and they never even knew. Of course, if Petunia had taken a keener interest in her nephew's affairs, she would have figured it all out sooner; and if Narcissa was not so determined to disassociate herself from everything that had to do with Potters, she would have learned the truth a while ago as well.

But they could not turn back the time, and soon their talk had turned toward the future. Petunia quickly told her friend about her marital troubles and confided such personal things in her, that she had never told to anyone else before.

Several hours later when it was finally time for the two women to say goodbye, Petunia found herself saying the one thing that she couldn't bring herself to think about – her immediate situation.

"My only plan is now to go find Heather," she said, and her friend knew exactly why. It was important for Petunia to go and visit the house that she grew up in and hope against hope that it was still there and that she was welcome in it. Narcissa knew that she would do the same.

Although she _was _putting quite a lot on faith. There was no guarantee that Heather was even back in England, or that Lily hadn't sold the house before she died. Or that Petunia had even the slightest chance of being accepted back into her family and into the magical community without severe repercussions.

* * *

Harry Potter arrived at the grate of the Florish and Blotts's bookstore in Diagon Alley ten seconds after stepping inside the fireplace of Malfoys' flat. Caleb Ralis immediately followed. After shaking themselves free of ashes, the boys stepped out of the store and looked around the street. The Alley seemed to bustling and bursting at the seams with young witches and wizards who were doing some early school shopping, trying to beat the crowds that were bound to fill the streets closer to September first , when the textbook lists arrived. The girls were out looking for the fancy styles of school robes and some pretty shoes to match them; the boys were stocking up on parchments and new quills. Harry and Caleb were not there to be do either. Having thought about it for a minute, they silently nodded to each other and spotting the broomstick store several shops up, headed up there, strolling leisurely through. 


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 **The cheating curve**

Narcissa stroked his face gently as she lay on top of his faultless, strong body, smiling miserably to herself in the process. The forbidden couple was spending the day at Anton's place, for Narcissa was not sure whether her husband planned on being at home that day, and would rather not take any chances. She still has not forgiven herself for almost traumatizing Draco a few weeks ago, when she had recklessly invited Anton to the Malfoy Manor, forgetting that the boys were home.

Her lover was asleep, as he was always exhausted following their steamy get-togethers. Narcissa loved to watch him sleep, it was one of her favorite pastimes. She lay next to him and touched his hair lightly with the tips of her fingers, resisting the urge to plant her lips on his and wake him up. She closed her eyes and kept them shut for several minutes, trying to hold the white, hot tears in as long as possible, but couldn't.

A sob burst from her lips and she jerked her hand away from him to wipe hastily at her pale face, as the tears were now freely flowing.

She knew she had to end it. It could not go on for much longer, and the sooner she ended it, the better for the both of them it would be. And easier… she would give anything to make it all easier. She had to disengage her life from Anton's now, before it was too late, and she would not be able to find strength in herself to say no.

Eight months ago, she never even dreamed that this flirtation would ever get this far. Thus, it was with alarm that she shortly recognized the emergence of an irreversible affection toward this man who was not her husband. Narcissa was beginning to feel things for him that she had never felt for any other man before. Their affair was moving into a dangerous territory. A territory of feelings, of care, of love... Narcissa knew perfectly well that she was now playing with fire. What has started out as an innocent diversion had suddenly turned into an uncontrollable passion, which she could not allow herself to pursue.

She had to say goodbye to the sole source of happiness in her life. They had to end the affair.

Narcissa had reached that decision three weeks ago, and was now in the process of looking for the right moment to break it to him. She has not found it yet, and for many days now she berated herself for being so spineless, for failing so miserably. She saw it as a weakness – she was brought up to handle things with hardy vigor and bold daring. Not with passive longing and lament.

So she just lay there and sobbed quietly, while desperately repeating in her head- _I'm an idiot! Idiot. _

_My parents would have been so disappointed, had they lived to see this. And my sisters would laugh and laugh and laugh. Oh and my son... My son! What am I doing! How can I be so selfish! Oh God. I have to think about my child! _

Although she always worried that her son could one day find out about her, she never quite thought about it that way - hurting Draco's social chances had never before hit home. It would be societal suicide for her child, had the social scene been hit with a scandal of such a high-profile affair.

And that was all it took. As soon as she had thought about the atrocities that would inevitably follow her son everywhere lest her infidelity was found out, she sat straight up; her eyes were wide with fear. It had finally hit her - Draco. Thinking about Draco made her want to shake Anton awake right that second, tell him to never contact her again, run straight out of that room and never look back.

She had a son. She had no right to be selfish. She had always known, that someday her life was to be sacrificed for her children, and she was proud of the kind of mother she was aspiring to be. And now she had to follow through. Had there not been a child in her life, she probably would have stayed with this man until the last possible moment when he no longer wanted her. She would forget about her husband, her friends, her sisters and her "perfect" life. She would plunge headfirst into the world of passion. But she had a son. Draco's happiness and well-being was the most important thing in the world and if that meant that Narcissa had to stay with Lucius and pretend to have a lovely marriage that provided an illusion of security, love and safety to their child, then so it would have to be.

* * *

Draco was walking through the tiny streets of the Diagon Alley, having escaped through the kitchens of West London Brewery less than an hour ago. He was anxious and even a little bit scared, which he almost never was. The events of the past couple of days were not exactly going to his liking. In fact, he was more worried now about his upcoming fate, than he had ever before worried about anything else in his life. His meeting, which was accidentally postponed was something that worried him most of all, and hence he was even glad that it got "canceled".

Thus buried in thought, he walked rather absentmindedly, not noticing where his feet were taking him. Rounding a corner, he suddenly halted at hearing some familiar voices up ahead. Harry and Caleb were conversing rather loudly some dozen feet away. He retreated back against the wall and listened.

After several minutes of discussing Harry's present health condition, the two boys' minds have turned to broomsticks.

"… this one broom, that dad was telling me about …- … wicked speed… grip…wronski!" The wind and the noise of the crowd drowned parts of the conversation out, but Draco could still catch the main gist. By the sound of it Caleb was running away with himself over some silly broom. Draco snorted and shook his head.

"…nah, that one's nothing. Lucius had one for ages, I don't consider it anything special…" Harry picked up where Caleb left off. Draco rolled his eyes and a yawn escaped his thin-lipped mouth, - he was beginning to get rather bored.

He was about to step out from behind his hiding place when he heard something else.

Two people, an old man and a younger one were walking towards him; they seemed to be in a hurry and weren't paying attention to anything in their way. They were both wearing wizarding robes, and the older man was twirling a wand in his hand. The younger man wore a purple cloak while his companion sported a blue one, signifying that he worked for the Ministry.

They wouldn't have been considered anything out of the ordinary, if what they were talking about didn't peak Draco's interest. He stared at the younger of the two, the one that Draco could have sworn had just mentioned his mother's name.

Unable to move, Draco leered at the retreating figures and racked his brain for any kind of recognition. It was proving rather hard. After a thorough search through his fragmented memory, he appeared to truly not know who the men were. He was sure that he knew every single person that his mother was acquainted with, for she led a rather straightforward, mellow life; a life into which she included her son as much as possible. She didn't work, she didn't volunteer, she invited all of her friends over to the manor to meet her son and husband before she stroke up a real friendship with them, so Draco found it rather strange that she had not introduced this unknown fellow to him.

So who in the hell could the young wizard be? Draco didn't know quite why he felt this way, but he had a distinct feeling that something just wasn't right here and after a moment's hesitation decided to follow the pair up the street to find out more. Dodging Harry and Caleb's line of vision, he hid behind a newspaper stand and after making sure they weren't looking, sprinted out from behind it and ran after the two wizarding men.


	14. Chapter 14

AN Yeah, this is like the shortest chapter ever, I suck I know/

Chapter 14 'All by myself'

Hermione Granger lay in bed looking up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. Her boyfriend was snoring a couple of feet away, and for the first time in many months the sound was bothering her. She was thinking about the day she had spent with Ginny and Fleur and how much fun they had had together. She was very much looking forward to having Ginny as a sister-in-law one day, and she really wished that Fleur would settle down in England permanently. The two girls were the only friends she had ever known in the magical world and seeing them once or twice a summer was an excruciating experience, which reminded her without fail of how lonely and unpopular she was at Hogwarts. Ginny did not hang around with her brothers while at school, and thus by default has always avoided Hermione, who spent literally all her time with Ronald. Being out and about with them made her feel like she was actually normal. Like she actually had friends that she could go to brunch with. Like she had confidantes with whom to share silly girly stories. But more than anything else it was a painful experience. All it did was remind her of what she couldn't have. Hermione swallowed a sob and blinked away the tears just as Ron turned over to his side, momentarily startling her. The depressing thoughts and self-pitying imagery had fooled her mind into forgetting where she was. She was with her boyfriend. At his parents' house. The very people who appreciated and adored her and were soon going to become her in-laws.

The young witch rubbed her running nose and looked at Ronald Weasley like she has never looked at him before. Did she love him? Did she want to be with him and marry him and bear his children? Did she really want all that? Could she do better? Was she only with him because there was nobody else and there never has been?

She did not get any time to contemplate on those important questions however, because at that precise moment a deafening crash came from downstairs and the entire house seemed to have been woken up. Including the young man laying beside her.

* * *

An excruciating feeling of sickness in the bottom of her stomach awaked Narcissa Malfoy at five fifteen that morning. She grimaced and twisted over in pain, tangling the sheets tighter around herself. Emitting a drawn-out moan, she cursed everything that came to mind, thinking that she must have gotten food poisoning.

Shooting straight up in her enormous bed, she stifled a groan in the midst of another wave of sickness, while her hand involuntarily flew up to cover her mouth. Jumping up, she tripped over the bed sheets and fell to the floor with a loud crash. That unfortunate act of clumsiness added sharply to the pain she was already feeling. Stubbing a few of her toes she sprinted up, ignoring the throbbing headache that was now joining the rest of the rapidly growing pain, she ran to the nearest toilet and promptly threw up.

Swiftly relaxing her abdominal muscles, Narcissa immediately slid down to lie in a heap on the floor while still clutching the counter with her stiff, snow-white knuckles.

Horror stricken, she immediately understood. And in that moment, the impeccable and proud prefect woman lost control, and letting herself go she curled up in a ball and bawled.

* * *

An attractive young couple was strolling leisurely through the tiny streets of Diagon Alley. The two of them were holding hands and chatting pleasantly with one another; the guy constantly throwing lovesick, adoring looks at his girl. Harry immediately recognized the stout, red-headed boy as Bill Weasley, but felt no need to say hello. All he did was glance appreciatively at the blonde girl that was with him, who also looked vaguely familiar, and kept walking past.

Then all of a sudden, he stopped cold in his tracks. Caleb walked right into him, having not expected his friend to slow down so soon.

"Harry!"- he yelled, "Why'd you do that?"

But Harry had just remembered something that made his stomach do the biggest flip in the history of stomach flips. He looked aghast, positively lost for words; pathetic and pitiful even.

As Harry's eyes darted back and forth between the sky, the buildings and the gravel on which he was standing, Caleb watched him apprehensively, not daring to inquire what was wrong.

"OH MY GOD. What have I done!"

"What? What did you do?"- Caleb answered tentatively, without removing his gaze. "Harry?" – he went on, when his friend did not respond.

"I am the biggest prat in Britain, Caleb, that's what. I can't believe that I am even capable of this! What am I going to do?!?"

"Ok, mate, you're losing me. What's happened? What are you going on about?"

Harry looked at him, and hit himself on the forehead, making his scar prickle angrily in return. "Ow!" – he yelped. Turning back to Caleb, he said – "Jen."

The dawning realization spread quickly across Caleb Ralis's face, and his own eyes grew wide to match Harry's.

_Jen._ Harry's girlfriend. He had completely and utterly forgotten about her existence and hadn't even thought about her since the beginning of the summer.

"Oh, Harry… Whatever are you going to do?" Caleb asked.

But Harry didn't answer; instead he took off at a run to the Owlery located half a block up. He needed to send off a letter as soon as possible.

* * *

Narcissa looked into the mirror and fixed her hair compulsively for the tenth time that night. She had spent the evening sitting alone in her boudoir and staring at her ghost-like reflection. She looked half dead - pale, thin, sunken with miserable shadows underneath her oval-shaped blue eyes. She was exhausted from crying – there were no more tears left in her, she had used them all up. Her body ached with pain and her mind throbbed with self-pity. Once again she knew what she had to do, which didn't mean that she knew how to do it. She spent the night in disbelief that something like this could happen to her. Again.

She was not going to tell Anton, even if he did have a right to know. Instead, she would tell Lucius.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 Hop skip and a week

"What was that?" said Ron, rubbed his eyes and hopped out of bed.

"I - I don't know" Hermione tried to steady her voice to keep him from knowing that she was crying. Before she could say anything else or even wipe her face nice and dry, Ron was already out the door and halfway down the stairs. She could hear a commotion down below and several voices talking at once, interrupting one another.

After a moment's thought, Hermione decided not to come down at all. She pulled the covers back over herself and laying her head on the pillow stared out into the hall. A bright light was hanging from the low ceiling right outside Ron's bedroom and not that the door was open she couldn't really look at anything else, for it drew all focus onto itself. The mumbled screaming voices slowly grew into a soft background noise and Hermione successfully blocked them out. She kept staring at the light, as if it held some sort of answer for her, some of comfort and advice. She didn't know what to do, but she felt like she did not possess a lot of choice. What would she do if she Didn't marry Ron? Where would she go, where would she live? Hogwarts was almost over and she would be making that decision all too soon. She had serious doubts about being to make it as a career woman at the ministry, being muggle-born and all. She felt the prejudices growing and falling on her from all sides. All sides but Ron's family. They still seemed to love her and accept her just as she was. Not purer, not smarter, not more beautiful, but just as she was. She looked at his empty side of the bed and stroked the other pillow gently. She needed this after all. Whether she wanted it or not was not a valid question.

Thus thinking, Hermione didn't even notice how she drifted off to sleep, and when Ron finally clambered back into bed twenty minutes later, after having found out that Fred and George managed to blow something up in their house without even being there, she did not wake up.

* * *

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Narcissa waited in the drawing room for her husband to arrive. When she finally heard the crack of his apparition just outside their front door, she ran out of the room and clumsily hit the little table in the entrance hall. Cursing in pain, she limped to the window and waved heartily at Lucius from behind the lacy curtain.

He was already opening the door when she turned back to look at the spacious front hall – his gloved hand was clicking the lock shut and he was shaking off the snow which had the indecency to fall on his elegant hat.

"My dear, Narcissa, what are you doing at home in the middle of the day?" Lucius cried in surprise as he walked over to where she stood and embraced her.

"Hi darling." Narcissa whispered. Her breathing was rather sporadic and her voice was strained with a mystifying undertone. She was nervous. It has been a good seventeen years since the last time they had a conversation like the one they were about to have.

"Is something wrong, Narcissa?"

"No. Not exactly." She wanted to spit it out and get it over with. So without a preamble, she gushed - "I have news."

"Oh? Good, I hope?"- her husband perked up as he heard a note of tiniest excitement in the word 'news'.

Narcissa blushed and grabbed his hand. "I'm going to have a baby," she blurted out without thinking and without knowing what he was going to say.

Her husband froze, her hand still in his, and her blue, almond shaped eyes alive with tingling expectation. She wasn't smiling, but her lips were forming a very subtle shape of letter O as her blue eyes stared into his gray ones.

And then just as suddenly, they both relaxed, as Lucius released her and drawled in his bored voice -"How long have you known?"

"I found out today. Last night, I mean. And I just couldn't wait to tell you!" Narcissa sighed with relief, as her husband walked into the next room to pour himself a glass of brandy. The worst was over. She did what she had to do. Now that Mr. Malfoy knew about the baby, and mind you – knew about it before anyone else,no witch or wizard would dare suggest that the baby wasn't his.

"I hope it's a boy." He said and kissed Narcissa on the forehead. "We should throw a little party to announce it. Next Friday perhaps?"

"Sure, Lucius." She nodded happily and smoothed his hair subtly off his face. He winced and walked away from her toward the crackling fire.

"Have you told Draco yet?"

"No. I wanted you to be the first to know."_How could she __**not**__, when he was the only person in the world who could make sure that her baby was a Malfoy, not a bastard._" Darling?," she went on, tentatively.

"Hmm?" Lucius was staring into the fireplace and did not consent to turn around.

"Darling, promise that you'll be around more now that I'm pregnant? I've missed you.."

"Of course. We will need to take good care of you and the baby. Now, can you give me a moment, I have some business matters to go over in my office, and then we could apparate somewhere and have a celebratory lunch?"

"I'd love that. I'll go change. Let me know when you are ready to go."

Upstairs in her room, Narcissa barely made it to the window before she collapsed on the king-sized bed, wearing a pained smile on her tired face. No, not hers, it was not her room. It was still _their_room, hers and her husband's. She had done what she had to and now she was left with the guilt of it. She somehow felt deep inside that it was Anton's baby, but she would never ever check. She was not that stupid. Let the world think that her little girl was a Malfoy; for she hoped for a baby daughter, not a second son as Lucius suggested. And she was going to name her Dahlia no matter what her husband said on that point. It would be just like the first time. Just like with Draco, back when they were happy and young. Could they be like newlyweds again? Could they survive the affair and leave the past behind? It wasn't just for Draco's sake anymore. She had another child to think about now. She could never throw her life away for Anton now. Not with two kids to care for. She finally told him that it was over, but he didn't accept it as easily as she had hoped. She knew that he'd be back and she would have to deal with him later, but she had other things to think about for now.

Besides, she still believed that she could possibly care for Lucius. She could resurrect her feelings… She wanted to believe that they could still salvage their marriage. They could… if they really, really tried.

She really hoped that _he_ would try.

* * *

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A/N Hi those of you who are reading this story on this site. This one is actually posted first on so if you want to read it there, youre welcome to it. But if you want me to keep posting here, please let me know that you Are reading it and comment at least once. Thanks guys!! Here is a new chapter, took a long time coming.


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